Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles
by Spirit Seer
Summary: Ever wondered what Prince Ferdinand was doing in the Wonder Woods when he appeared in time to save Cornet? Ever wonder what Prince Ferdinand was doing during the Miss Marl's Contest? Ever wonder what his feelings were about being the prize in the Contest? Here is the other side of the story...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure. That belongs to its respective owners.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this version of Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure from Prince Ferdinand's POV!

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter One_

* * *

Prince Ferdinand leaned back against the tree with a contented sigh.

After making a successful escape from the castle early that morning (of which his mother and the guard on duty happened to turn a blind eye, to his relief), he had had the misfortune to have his absence realized before he snuck out of the grounds. At that point, it was simply a race to reach the Wonder Woods before his watchers caught up to him. As much as he hated people worrying about him, some days, he just needed some peace and quiet.

In hindsight, he reflected that he could simply request some leave time from his mother, but then she would be forced to follow protocol and send some escorts (read: guards) with him. That would defeat the purpose of venturing out by himself to have quiet. If he had escorts, he obviously was not by himself.

Ferdinand was so grateful that his mother never complained if he was caught outside, though she did make the necessary reproving for the sake of those who caught him and brought him back. Through some tacit connection, she seemed to understand. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that she had previously been a commoner, before she became queen. After all, that was the one thing he envied commoners for—their ability to have solitude. They did not need escorts; they could go wherever they wanted.

Besides, having escorts was like painting a sign on him that screamed, "Everyone, look at me! Prince Ferdinand comes hither!"

He sighed. That was another price that came with royalty—it was difficult to be seen as anything other than a figurehead. People looked up to you and admired you, but people rarely saw you as a person. Some days, it was almost enough to drive him insane. The only reason that he had not been driven insane previously was because that he knew he could not show it. He was going to be king someday, and he was determined to be a good ruler. If he allowed himself to be affected now, it would be much more difficult to break when he gained the crown.

The crown. The thought of the crown brought him back to another problem—marriage. As the Crown (and only) Prince, Ferdinand recognized that he needed to be married before he became king. His mother had recently reminded him of said fact. However, despite his mother's reminders, he really was not in a hurry to be king. As much as being prince gave him views into the politics and duties that came with his future position, he still felt that he was not prepared for the role yet. However, when he had expressed it to his mother, she had simply smiled and said that no one was completely ready for that role of leadership, but that he would learn, and she was confident that he would be a great king.

As much as he appreciated his mother's support, it did not really fill him with a lot of confidence.

In the back of his mind, part of him wondered if his trepidation stemmed from that he could no longer ask his father for wisdom anymore. He knew that he should not dwell on it, as there was nothing that could be done to bring the King back, but he missed his father dearly. He really did not have a father-figure to turn to anymore.

That was not to say that there were not men in the castle. Oh no, there were plenty. The guards were friendly, and the captains were always willing to give him pointers in swordsmanship, lancing, and archery if he asked. In a way, they had almost pseudo-adopted Ferdinand once the King perished in the war against Karlmaddmann, and he was appreciative of their extra care.

But then there was Minister Golonzo, the man who was heralded as the one who ended the war that claimed his father's life.

Prince Ferdinand involuntarily grimaced.

Minister Golonzo's skulking figure, bragging mouth, his shifty, beady eyes… The fake manner in which he carried himself, constantly agreeing with whatever his mother said, before casting calculating glances in his direction…

He did not even know _how_ the Minister had ended the war...

Ferdinand unconsciously clenched the worn pants in his gloved fist. He did not trust the Minister one bit. He was polite for politeness' sake (and for his mother's sake, who trusted said politician greatly), but something about Minister Golonzo set him on edge.

He could not place it. He just felt something instinctual that said not to trust him. It was a feeling that he had learned to trust, especially after it had saved his life during a (failed) assassination attempt when he was seven. His nurse had secretly been an assassin, not that anyone had guessed. She had seemed so kind, but something in her eyes and laugh had made him uncomfortable. His mother believed his reservations after the attempt, but she had not understood his unease beforehand. The quiet whisper had even saved his life a few times after that.

He knew that he should share his suspicions about the minister with his mother, but he did not think that she would believe him. After his father died, she had relied on the minister heavily for advice, and had come to trust his word greatly. She would not be swayed to believe Ferdinand easily.

It pained Ferdinand, both the knowledge that he would be doubted by his own mother, and the fact that he was forced to wait until the spider jumped.

To wait until the spider jumped was a dangerous gamble, though.

If Minister Golonzo jumped for anything, it would be the Kingship. Prince Ferdinand just did not know how he would spring, so he was constantly on guard. Ferdinand prayed that, when the Minister finally acted, he would not be too late.

Ferdinand sighed in aggravation. He really should not dwell too much on it. He was finally out of the castle, and even in the Wonder Woods, Minister Golonzo had found a way to worm his way into the trip and steal his joy.

He stood up from the soft grass, forcing his thoughts to turn elsewhere. What had been his plans again?

Oh, yes. Since his guard had found him civilian clothes, he intended to sneak into Orange and visit the townsfolk. As the future King, he both needed and wanted to be acquainted with his people's needs and lifestyles. It also set the groundwork for future support of his kingship (not that he needed to aid the support from the female population, who, fortunately and unfortunately, idolized him). He also had plans to find the house of Mustaki, another hero of the last war. He had heard tales about him for as long as he could remember, and had hoped the meet the famous puppeteer in person.

He also selfishly enjoyed the fact that he was treated like a regular person by the commoners, since, dressed as they were, most of them did not realize his status. Plus, Orange was a quieter, quainter town than Mothergreen. As such, they were more unfamiliar with his appearance, and would be less likely to recognize him as The Prince. While the downside of small towns was that everyone knew everybody, so his presence would be more apparent, as long as he did not act too out of place, he should (theoretically) be fine.

* * *

Three hours later found the sun higher in the sky, and the Prince was back in the Wonder Woods, stretching his arms above his head before settling against another tree. It had been an enjoyable trip to town. Even though he had not gathered enough courage to talk to him this time, he had located the residency of Mustaki on the outskirts of town. Furthermore, none of the townspeople had recognized him. He reveled in his anonymity.

Anonymity. That word was truly glorious. One did not realize the meaning of the word until they obtained a celebrity status and constantly had eyes upon them, watching and scrutinizing their every breath and action. To not have judging eyes was a wondrous thing.

Some days, he almost wished that he was not the prince. At least, if he was not Prince Ferdinand, but simply Ferdinand, finding his future wife would be a _lot_ easier.

Once again, Ferdinand reflected that, someday, he would indeed marry. It was not that he was against marriage; on the contrary, as… girly… as it might sound, he had a secret dream for a happy marriage. However, his status made it difficult to talk to girls, and the girls he did have the opportunity to meet either gazed at him adoringly as "The Prince" for his status or his money.

He thought of the girls that had unknowingly met him in Mothergreen and Orange. They had dreamed about marrying a prince that they did not even know and becoming queen. Imagine, him marrying someone he did not know—not even their _name_—and who did not even want to marry _him_! It was quite demeaning. He hated being treated like an object, a trophy to be won and set on the mantle.

But they dreamt of marrying into a lifestyle.

They dreamt of marrying into money.

They dreamt of marrying a _prince_.

They did not dream of marrying Ferdinand.

_No one_ dreamt of marrying Ferdinand.

Ferdinand sighed dejectedly. _He_ dreamt that, someday, someone would dream of marrying Ferdinand for _Ferdinand_, not for being _Prince_ Ferdinand. And, some days, it felt like a very faraway dream, as everyone he met, from the commoners to the nobility, seemed only entranced with his position and money.

Like Etoile Rosenqueen. She was a beautiful girl who had entranced many, but while she had never said so to his face, he knew for a fact that she was only in love with his money. Not only had he heard it from some gossiping girls from his few anonymous trips into town, he had heard it from her lips herself, albeit she had not realized he was standing around the corner when she had said so; although, whether it had been confiding or bragging, he had not been able to discern.

He chuckled mirthlessly to himself. That girl wore an eternal mask of gaiety and charm, and it was the mask that won her admirers. No one ever viewed the girl's real face.

Mask.

There were so many that wore masks. Those around him—Etoile, the nobility, the royalty, the ministers…

Even himself.

And in hindsight, some days, those masks were the only thing that allowed the kingdom to run smoothly.

_Tact has truly made liars out of us all,_ he thought to himself bitterly.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, forcing the thoughts away with an emphatic shaking of his head. After all, he had evaded his watchers so that he could have a moment's peace, not sully it with dark reflections.

Happy thoughts. He needed happy thoughts, he determined as he stood, pushing himself up from the ground. What else was on his agenda for the outing?

A smile came to Prince Ferdinand's lips as he remembered. He had planned to catch some Bobo from the Natalie River. It was his favorite dish, and the cook, after hearing of his secret (or not-so-secret) plans to leave the castle, had laughed gaily after hearing his request and promised to prepare it for him if he brought some back.

He could hear the bird-fish sizzling now, and his mouth started watering at the thought.

He laughed, reminding himself that he had not even caught it yet. He could not picture it cooked until he had caught it. _All right, then, let's go catch some Bobo!_ he thought happily to himself, and he started walking toward the river.

Then, he heard girls' voices.

Ferdinand jumped slightly, and then berated himself for doing so. Just because they were girls' voices did not mean that he should allow himself to be startled so easily. He was going to be the King—he should not be easily rattled!

But they were still girls' voices. And after his experiences with girls, he was understandably wary. To be on the safe side, he crouched behind the tree he was leaning against, suddenly glad for the large bushes next to it that provided extra cover. For a second, he was afraid that they had discovered his identity and followed him, but then he shook the thought away.

_They are probably from Orange. In which case, they practically live here,_ he reminded himself. _They might have simply come out into the Woods for a walk themselves. Just because I get stalked by other girls does not mean that they are stalking me. I need to calm down._

He took a deep breath and decided to listen to their conversation, just to be safe. Soon enough, the voices drifted close enough to hear. The figures even walked right by his tree.

"—glad that we got to stop for lunch!" a high-pitched voice pronounced cheerily.

A second voice laughed. It was a clear, pure laugh. For some reason, it made Ferdinand blush a little. An older girl responded, "You're welcome, Kururu. I'm just happy that you reminded me to pack lunch for us. I'd forgotten how long these trips take."

_She has a pretty voice; she probably sings well. I wonder if she looks as pretty as her voice is,_ Ferdinand thought, and then caught himself. He did not even know these girls. Why did he suddenly feel curious as to their identities?

The more childish voice laughed, too. "Yeah, gathering Red Imotium always takes forever, but you know how Gramps is. I hope we find a lot this time."

"Yeah," the other voice responded, sounding thoughtful. "Last time, we didn't find very much. It's like someone else has been picking the normal fields clean. I mean, everyone here isn't greedy, for the most part. I wonder why it's been disappearing."

"Well, maybe—"

As the voices drifted away, Ferdinand wondered, _They are gathering Red Imotium?_ He looked up thoughtfully. If they were here to gather Imotium, that meant that they were not stalking him (and, happily, they were not heading to the Natalie River. He did not know what he was going to do if they had decided to go fishing today when _he_ desperately wanted Bobo). In fact, they might not have even seen him in the village. Gathering courage, he peeked over the bushes to see the two girls walking away down the path.

No. One was a girl about his age, and the other appeared to be a puppet.

Hm. A puppet. She must have had the childish voice. That meant that the other, a girl wearing a short green, long-sleeved dress, short boots, and waist-length blonde hair, must be the one with the pretty voice.

She was rather cute herself, from what he could see from her profile. He blushed slightly again.

Ferdinand shook his head, forcing the thought away. Now _he_ felt like the stalker. He sighed.

But wait… Surely two girls (ok, _one_ girl and her puppet, who did not look to have much weapon-capability) alone in the forest where there was the possibility of finding trouble was not a smart combination. They had mentioned disappearing Imotium. That could mean bandits or thieves.

The thought of leaving them alone at the possible mercy of bandits and thieves did not sit well with him. It went against his personal code (even though, sadly, following—_guarding_—them meant forgoing his Bobo. Maybe he could get some later or on the next trip).

He reached down, checking that his father's sword was secure at his side. He had hidden it in the forest before he went into town (so as not to identify himself as a member of the Royal family by the crest on the sword), but he had long since recovered it. It was the first thing he did when he returned to the forest; he had not wanted to risk anything happening to the precious sword. He also double-checked the bag of Imotium with him, and after opening it, found that he indeed had some Red Imotium.

He stood. He would follow the girls at a distance, just to make sure that they did not run into trouble.

And if he just "happened" to appear and "happened" to have "found" some Red Imotium, thus aiding in their search and finding a chance to have an actual conversation with a girl who did not know his identity, that would make it all the better.

He smiled to himself, and then set off following them at a distance.

* * *

A/N: This is just a fic that I started after realizing that you really don't see much of Prince Ferdinand in the game. In fact, you only see him a handful of times before he gets turned to stone, and then he doesn't reappear until the end of the game, when he changes back. So I wanted to take the opportunity to peek into his mind a little. Although it started small (originally a short drabble for thoughts), it's growing into a Ferdinand POV version of the game. I have no idea how long this will turn out, but let's see where it goes!

Oh, this initial piece also began after I wondered what the Prince was doing in the Wonder Woods in the first place. He magically appeared to save the day, but one wonders _why_ he was able to magically appear to the save the day. So, voila!

I hope you enjoyed this first installment, and please share your thoughts with me!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure. That awesome game belongs to its respective owners.

A/N: A big thank-you to Jade for your wonderful review! It brought me a lot of joy to find it in my inbox. And of course a special thanks to all of my readers! I hope that you enjoy Chapter 2. :)

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter 2_

* * *

_Ok, now I _really_ feel like a stalker,_ Prince Ferdinand thought for twenty-fourth time that hour. Sure, he had successfully followed the girl—whose name he had _finally _learned was Cornet, an interesting name—and her puppet, Kururu, but now he found himself in a bit of trouble.

Perhaps he had hidden himself a little too well. If he just admitted it to himself, he would realize that his vantage point created too much of a direct view of Cornet as she searched on her hands and knees for the Red Imotium.

No. Ferdinand sighed as he fisted the grass beneath his hands, shutting his eyes. He was simply too nervous. In all actuality, this was the first time he would be speaking to a girl who had not approached him first, and he was at a loss for what to do. How was a boy supposed to get a girl's attention? Simply walk up and speak to her? Surely there was some sort of rulebook for this sort of thing, something with directions…

Cornet shifted, searching elsewhere on the ground, and Ferdinand nearly jumped. Then he mentally slapped himself for it. Look at him—he was hyper-aware of Cornet's every movement. Surely, she could sense his racing heart. Why had she made no outward sign of knowing his presence?

Darn it, muscles—stop trembling! He was _not_ that nervous! He gritted his teeth in determination. No, he would not chicken out. He would talk to her. He _would!_ Decidedly, he looked up.

Into the curious eyes of her puppet.

Ferdinand released a soundless yelp and jumped back, embarrassingly landing on his rear in the grass. He blushed a little in shame, but the puppet simply continued looking at him curiously, as though trying to determine if he was dangerous or not. He raised his hands in front of him placatingly and prayed that the puppet would understand that he did not mean any harm.

Kururu merely tilted her head to the side, catching on to something. What exactly she was catching on to, Ferdinand would not fathom. Deciding not to waste time, he instead raised a finger to his lips before she spoke, silently asking her to stay quiet. If the puppet spoke, her high-pitched voice would catch Cornet's attention immediately, and then his stealth would have all been for naught.

The puppet simply waited, albeit impatiently, as her curiosity appeared to be getting the better of her. She began fluttering her butterfly wings anxiously as she hovered in the air in front of her, her small hands on her hips.

He breathed a sigh in relief and reached into his pouch. Pulling out some of his Red Imotium (not all of it, so that he could "find" more later on for Cornet), he held it out to Kururu. _For her,_ he mouthed to the puppet, pointing to Cornet. The puppet took it, studied the Red Imotium for a moment, and then looked to Cornet. She started to fly back, but then suddenly turned and gave him a mischievous smile. Ferdinand felt an uneasy shiver as the puppet flew away.

The feeling was proven right when the next words he heard were, "Hey, Cornet! Look! I found a bunch of Red Imotium over here!"

_Oh no, please no, please no, please no,_ Ferdinand chanted in his head, not ready to face Cornet. He had not yet gathered up enough courage. _Please do not bring her over here, Kururu!_

But Fate seemed to have conspired against him, because the next words he heard were, "Really, Kururu?" A pause, during which he figured she examined the Red Imotium. "Wow, that's good Imotium! Where did you find it?"

"Oh, there's this little spot over there! Come see!"

'Little spot,' indeed. Trepidation validated. Prince Ferdinand gulped. There was still time to run—

Suddenly, the bushes opposite them rustled, and something jumped in front of them. He couldn't see what happened, but he heard their cries of shock. Something surged within him at their cries. Ferdinand stealthily moved around through the bushes and trees until he could see better; he could not rush in blindly. He would not be able to help them at all that way.

"Meow, hand over the Imotium!"

"Yeah, it belongs to Miss Myao, meow!"

"Yeah, hand it over, meow!"

They were cats. Cats wearing overalls, in fact. Talking cats. Who knew. But where had they come from? Prince Ferdinand's mind whirled. Why were they after the Imotium? And who was Miss Myao?

His question was answered when a woman in a short, long-sleeved pink dress and pink boots appeared. She had cat ears and a tail, and carried a staff.

"Look, it's Miss Myao!"

"It's Miss Myao! You're gonna get it, meow!"

Yep. If the looks alone were not enough, this was _definitely_ Miss Myao.

"Good job, guys," she said to the cats, which all mewed happily at the praise. Turning to Cornet and Kururu, she announced, "All right, hand over the Imotium."

Hey, he gave them that Imotium! That was supposed to be his excuse to talk to her, he silently ranted indignantly. What was this lady thinking by stealing it?!

"What right do you have to take our Imotium?" Cornet voiced indignantly in his stead. Ferdinand silently cheered. Although he would have done the same (if he was actually a part of the conversation, instead of being forced to mentally voice it), some part of him could not help but feel that maybe his particular Imotium had been special. "The Imotium doesn't belong to anyone, and we worked hard to find this!"

Hah. She may have found some on her own, but if she only knew that what Kururu "found" was actually from him. On a second thought, her words meant that his Imotium had not been as special, after all.

The lady laughed. "Well, then, thank you for your work in gathering the Imotium for us. Please hand it over now."

"No way, lady!" Kururu stuck her tongue out at Miss Myao. "Go get your own Imotium!"

The lady frowned, her demeanor undergoing a complete turnaround. "That Imotium belongs to the Marjoly family. Hand it over, or you're going to regret it!" she hissed.

Ferdinand felt a shiver run down his spine. People who shifted moods that easily were not people to mess with. Besides, he knew the name Marjoly. They were a family of witches, rumored to be as old as the Ancients. If he interfered, this could turn into a large political mess.

"No way!" Cornet retorted. While Ferdinand had been happy at her refusal, now he was concerned. She might actually get hurt if she did not hand it over.

"Fine then!" Miss Myao exclaimed. "Come forth, my pet dragon!"

_Dragon? And did she just say "pet" dragon?_

Miss Myao raised her staff in the air, Ferdinand felt a large pulse of magic, there was a blinding flash of light—

And there was suddenly a large, blue and white dragon standing in the middle of the clearing, smoke billowing out its large nostrils as it stared at Cornet with narrowed, yellow eyes.

Ferdinand swallowed nervously. _Cornet,_ _please hand over the Imotium before you die,_ he prayed.

"Well, are you going to hand it over now?" Miss Myao asked smugly. Ferdinand could almost swear that he heard a purr in her voice.

Cornet stuck out her tongue at her. "Never!"

Kururu, on the other hand, had already taken the Imotium she had gotten from Ferdinand—Why his? Ferdinand mourned, before he shot the feeling down. He would get more for her, her life was more important!—and hovered in front of the witch. "Here you go."

"What are you doing, Kururu?!" Cornet yelled to the puppet. "We worked hard for that!"

"Um, in case you didn't notice, we're about to become dragon food!" Kururu retorted.

_Thank you, Kururu,_ Ferdinand thought.

"But you didn't have to give it over!"

"Ok, _you_ can fight the dragon if you want, but I'm trying to save our skins!"

Miss Myao, ignoring the argument (and, unknowingly, Ferdinand's silent commentary), purred instead, "Good puppet." She turned toward Cornet. "Are you ready to hand over your Imotium now, girl?"

Regardless of how much Ferdinand prayed for her to hand it over (he'd get her more, please, just hand it over!), she stood her ground. And as much as Ferdinand admired obstinacy in the face of injustice, he would really rather not see her die before he had a chance to talk to her.

"No!" Cornet yelled instead.

Oh boy. Ferdinand gripped his sword, feeling the familiar handle in his palm as the blade slid from the sheath. He would only pray that the witch would not recognize him. As much as he was afraid of starting a political incident, Cornet's life was more important.

"Then I hope you like being my dragon's dinner!" the witch screamed.

The dragon leaped, its dripping teeth glistening in the sunlight.

Ferdinand jumped, pulling the sword free.

He swung downward with all his strength toward the dragon's gaping maw.

A second later, he landed gracefully in the clearing, while the dragon landed lifelessly with a _thud_ behind him.

He breathed in relief. He managed to slay the dragon. Somehow. And in one shot. Not bad. He would have to thank the captain of the guard for his instruction the next time he saw him.

He turned his head slightly to check on Cornet behind him. Aside from some trembling and shock across her features, she appeared to be all right.

At least Cornet was ok.

Ferdinand stood and turned to the witch, his sword firm in his hand. His voice and posture were surer than he truly felt as he stood protectively in front of Cornet. He exclaimed, "What are you doing, attacking a helpless girl?"

The witch took a step back, startled. "That seal—it's from the Royal family!"

Ferdinand wanted to curse, but forced it to remain behind his lips. She had recognized the seal on his father's sword. Not good. Time to bluff before she challenged him or further revealed his identity.

"Go!" he exclaimed, pointing his sword threateningly.

The witch growled, catching the bluff, but realizing that her main card—her dragon—had already been defeated. "Just you wait, Prince," she hissed. "I'll be back!" She stepped back and disappeared into a swirl of magic that Ferdinand did not see her summon. Her minions followed her.

"Yeah, you'll get yours next time, meow!"

"Just you wait, meow!"

"Yeah, meow!"

And then they were gone, even taking the dead dragon with them. They had not called his bluff, to Prince Ferdinand's relief. He wiped the blade on the grass before sliding it back into its sheath. That was the first lesson that had been drilled into him, to always clean the blade (because it is nigh impossible to clean a sheath).

"A-Are you really the prince?" a shaky voice asked behind him.

Prince Ferdinand jolted. He had forgotten that Cornet was right behind him since he had been focused on Marjoly's minions, and now anxiety shot through his muscles. Steadying his features (he was more nervous than he could ever remember being, even compared with facing Miss Myao or Minister Golonzo, but he was sure that girls could smell fear), he slowly turned around. He steadily walked over, his easy steps not revealing the racing of his heart. He extended a hand down to her as he nodded, hoping that his assent to his title would not scare her off. "Are you all right, Miss?" He hoped his smile was friendly and did not betray his fear.

Cornet blushed, and then shakily took his hand. He gently pulled her up, and she slowly nodded. However, he figured that she was in too much of a daze to realize that her other hand was bleeding. She must have injured it when she fell.

"Oh, your left hand," Ferdinand murmured. Cornet jolted slightly when she realized it was bleeding. He searched his pockets, but found that he did not have his handkerchief. It must have fallen somewhere, to his disappointment. Now what could he do? He had to think of something before he chickened out and ran.

"Um, wait, I know!" he murmured, and silently apologized to the guard who had given the clothes to him. Taking the shirt in his hand, he ripped the edge, making a nice, wide strip. He hoped that the shirt was not too dirty; infecting the girl's the wound was the last thing that he wanted to do. He tied the makeshift bandage around Cornet's wound.

"There we go," he said happily. He looked up at the still dazed girl. She seemed to still be in shock, but he hoped it was only from the dragon, and not from him. He desperately wanted to say her name, but that would be admitting that he had been stalking—no, he did _not_ stalk them. He was following, no, _guarding_ them to ensure their safety!—them. He needed her to tell him her name, that way he would not have to admit to already knowing it. "My name is Ferdinand. What is yours?"

Her mouth attempted to move, but she seemed to still be in shock. Ferdinand waited patiently. This was the first girl he had talked to on his own, and he was determined to make the conversation survive!

"I think that the poor girl is in shock," he murmured to himself. He looked around for help, but the puppet had mysteriously disappeared. Was she trying to give them space or had something happened to it?

Feeling slightly helpless, he asked, "Um, would you like to sit down?" He waited a second, but then decided it would be more effective to simply lead her to the fallen log and help her sit. After he had sat down next to her, he asked her again, "What is your name? Do you live in Orange?"

This time, it looked like she had found the words, because she started to say, "Yes, I'm—"

"_Prince Ferdinand, where are you?"_

"_Please answer us if you can hear us, Prince Ferdinand!"_

For the second time that day, Prince Ferdinand dearly wanted to curse at the timing. He had finally reached a point of conversation with the girl! Instead, he wearily stood. It would not do to worry his searchers any longer. After all, they were his (future) subjects, too, and as the future king, he should do his best to balance his needs and wants with theirs.

He sighed, finally scratching the Bobo off for lost on this trip. Still hoping to continue the conversation for at least a few more seconds, he looked back down.

"I—"

"_Prince Ferdinand!"_ The voices were coming closer.

There was a second of silence, and Prince Ferdinand relinquished the conversation for lost. His watchers would be there any moment now, and as much as he desperately wanted to finish his first conversation with a girl, it would cause undue rumors for them if they were caught together. For all he knew, she might even have a boyfriend, and he did not wish to put her in a bad situation with him (but he really hoped that she did not, because he hoped to speak to her again).

He had to leave now, before his watchers arrived.

He bowed his head slightly, fighting back the slight blush when he caught her eyes. They were a warm brown, complementing her hair nicely.

He pushed the thought away. He had to leave now. "I hope we meet again, Miss," he murmured, and then, turning away, ran into the trees. He really hoped that they met again. Plus, hopefully, the next time, he would not be so nervous.

Circling around the watchers, he made it appear as if he were coming from a different direction. After a moment of tailing their movements, he made enough noise to allow them to "find" him. As soon as they "found" him, the reprimands began.

"Prince Ferdinand, what are you doing out here by yourself? And without an escort, no less!"

"What are you wearing? And it's torn! What happened to you, sir?"

"Your mother is worried sick about you!"

Ferdinand doubted it. He had told her—ok, hinted, but it was the same difference—beforehand where he was going.

"What were you thinking?"

Prince Ferdinand raised his hands in front on him, both to placate them and in surrender. "I am sorry to have worried you all and to have caused so much trouble," he replied smoothly, albeit more diplomatically. "Shall we return to the castle now?"

The watchers huffed, although both parties knew the routine by now. Prince Ferdinand would disappear, the watchers would go looking, they would find the prince when the prince was ready to be found, and then they would return to the castle to present him to the queen who was "worried" but had really known exactly where he was.

But they really could not blame the prince for wanting some time away from the castle. That was the main reason why they even waiting a few hours before beginning the search. At that point, they would ask around, find who knew where he was, wait for another hour or two nearby, and then go "searching". They couldn't let their prince fall into danger, but they didn't want to keep him caged in the castle, either.

However, it was really time to return. It wouldn't do for the populace to know that everyone secretly allowed the outings, because that would make it easier for enemies of the royal family to attempt an assassination or kidnapping. So, they put on their best annoyed faces and announced that yes, they were heading back, and he had better not make it look like he was running away in the future.

Prince Ferdinand smiled as they walked back, grateful to have tacitly understanding watchers. Even though his first initiated conversation with a girl had not lasted long and he did not catch his Bobo (he was tempted to ask if they could return to the river, but then decided not to press his luck), it had still been a good day.

However, little did he know how good of a day it had been toward the security of his future, and in more ways than one.

* * *

A/N: And now we get to see where Kururu finds the Red Imotium, as well as how Prince Ferdinand happens to be in the right place at the right time. Whoo-hoo!

I hope that you enjoyed this installment! Please R&R and share your thoughts!

Next chapter: Ferdinand's thoughts on the Miss Marl's Contest!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure." That belongs to its respective owners. I do own this story, however.

**A/N:** Welcome to Chapter Three! I hope that you enjoy it. :)

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Three_

* * *

"No, Mom."

The Queen wanted to sigh, but she put on her most placating face instead. Folding her fan and resting it at her side, she pleaded, "Please, Ferdinand? Would you at least consider it?"

"No, Mother. I really disagree with that idea."

The Queen really sighed this time as she leaned against the doorframe to her son's room. Her son had resorted to using 'Mother;' he was being stubborn. "Then would you at least explain your reasoning to me, please?"

This time, Prince Ferdinand sighed, leaning his forehead against his interlocked fingers, his elbows on the surface of the desk he was sitting at. He loved his mom, really, but… "Mom, I don't like the idea of having my future queen up for grabs in this contest, nor I do like the idea of having to marry the winner. We all know that Etoile Rosenqueen is going to win—because she has won the last two contests hands down—and I would really rather_ not_ marry Etoile."

"But Etoile is such a nice girl," his mother attempted to dissuade him.

Ferdinand shook his head, still facing the wall. The report on current political events that he was supposed to finishing for his tutor (due the next day by noon, and he was only three-quarters finished) lay forgotten on the desk. "She carries a nice appearance, you mean," he refuted. "She is nice in company, but I don't care for her mask. How can I consider marrying a girl whose real face I've never seen?"

The Queen sighed again, looking up at the ceiling as though requesting strength, patience, or both. She believed that there was more to Etoile—she _knew_ there was—but her son had a point. It was time to take this from a different angle. "Would you at least be willing to sit on the panel to watch the participants? The Miss Marl's Contest dates have already been settled. It's too late to withdraw the contest now."

The Prince groaned and banged his head on the desk, before raising it again, running a hand through his blond hair in exasperation. The Queen almost laughed; she was the only one who got to see her son act the age he was—a teenager—without the mask that propriety demanded. At this moment, he was simply being a stubborn one. However, even stubborn, moody teenagers had buttons that could be pushed for positive reactions. As his mother, she happened to know most, if not all, of them.

"Besides…" she began.

_An open-ended starting phrase that promised options to draw curiosity…_

The Prince slowly turned around in his chair around to face his mother, hoping for a good side to the apparent bad news.

…_and the stubborn teenager that resided inside Prince Ferdinand would listen, at least for a little bit._ _Presto._

"You never know," his mother softly smiled. "Someone different may yet enter and win."

Prince Ferdinand offered a tired smile in return. He sincerely hoped that someone else would win, but he doubted it. Then again, maybe that girl he had saved would enter…

_Cornet…_ He looked at the tapestried wall for a moment. _I wonder what she is doing now…_

"Ferdinand…"

The prince turned back at his mother's murmured call.

The Queen sighed, her eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry if you don't like this contest, but as the prince, I'm sure that you have experienced by now how difficult it is to meet and speak with young ladies of your age. It is for the purpose of helping you meet eligible young ladies that this contest exists. I understand that it's…" she paused, finding the right words, "…not quite how you would _prefer_ to go about finding your future bride, but while my dearest wish is that you would find your future bride through this, that is just for convenience's sake. That does not mean that you have to."

The Prince's eyebrows rose. "But, you said that—"

"I know what I _said_." The Queen waved it off. "That does not mean that it's set in stone. I set that up to make the girl who wins a 'candidate' to be your bride. By 'candidate,' I simply mean that the girl who wins will have proven that she has the qualities we are looking for in the future queen. However…" The Queen smiled. "Just because the winner becomes a 'candidate' does not mean that you will be forced to marry her."

Ferdinand exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Mom," he murmured gratefully.

The Queen laughed quietly, secretly relieved that she had regained her rank of 'Mom'. "You're welcome. Perhaps, next time, you will listen to all of what your mother has to say before you form conclusions." She batted her fan in his direction playfully.

"Perhaps I should," Ferdinand laughed quietly in return.

His mother gave him one last smile before she turned around and swept away from his room, leaving Ferdinand alone with his thoughts.

* * *

When Ferdinand returned from dinner that evening, he found the guards posted by his room chatted animatedly about the upcoming events. He had not yet decided if he shared in their enthusiasm, as the contest had been set up to determine _his_ bride, not theirs. In all honesty, he was feeling a little nervous, even though his mother had already assured him that he would not be forced to marry the winner (oh, he was so thankful that he would not be forced to marry Etoile Rosenqueen).

"Good evening, Prince Ferdinand," the guards chorused as he approached, breaking Ferdinand out of his thoughts. A part of him was reminded that, regardless of how many times he tried to convince his guards to call him 'Ferdinand,' they still stuck to some form of 'Highness,' 'sir,' or simply 'Prince Ferdinand'. He was tempted to try again, but then decided to save his breath.

"Good evening, Hans and Franz," Ferdinand greeted. "How are you doing this evening?"

Franz chuckled and adjusted the spear in his hand, standing straight and dignified. "Doing well, sir."

"How about yourself, sir?" Hans asked, moving away from leaning against the doorframe. He hid the slightly guilty look on his blue eyes, but Ferdinand pretended that he had not seen it. After all, the guards were on their feet most of the day. He did not begrudge them for resting when he was not around.

No sooner had Ferdinand confirmed that he was doing well in return than Franz broke in with, "So, are you looking forward to the Miss Marl's contest this year, Your Highness?"

Ferdinand did his best to hide the uncomfortable look that crossed his face, but it still turned into something of a grimace. Franz and Hans laughed good-naturedly. "I'll take that to be a 'no,' then, sir," Franz chuckled.

Ferdinand laughed lightly. "I guess I can't hide it well."

"Eh, don't worry about it, sir," Hans shrugged as he waved his hand reassuringly. "You can speak your mind with us. We won't tell."

"Thank you, Hans and Franz." Ferdinand smiled gratefully before releasing a long, drawn-out sigh, his eyes on the waxed, tiled floor. "I guess I'm simply not looking forward to becoming the trophy for the contest. I know that this is about helping my search for a queen—and that I, thankfully, do not have to marry the winner if I do not like her—but, to be honest, being the prize isn't…fun," he finished, for lack of another word.

Franz nodded understandingly. "That's frustrating, sir. I wouldn't like it, either." He paused for a second, and then said, "Well, since there's no way to change the contest parameters now, I would suggest just focusing on the contestants."

"That is basically what my mother suggested at dinner," Ferdinand sighed. "I just feel bad doing that, as though _I_ am turning the contestants and winner into objects, as well."

"Not necessarily, Prince Ferdinand," Hans said. "If you were looking at them only as women, then I would say that you were objectifying them. However, you are not looking at them as women—you are surveying them for your future queen. And there is a difference there."

"But _how_ is there a difference?" Ferdinand asked, exasperated. He had been seeking this answer, and had not gleaned what he was looking for from his mother.

"The difference is that you're looking at them for their grace and character," Hans declared. "You're judging them based on their whole person, not simply on their looks."

"And their fighting skills," Franz cut in. "Don't forget the fighting competition."

"And for their…leadership capabilities," Hans rephrased with a grin.

Ferdinand looked at the two guards, and then he smiled. Suddenly, it all made sense. "Thank you, Hans, Franz," he said, a genuine, grateful smile on his lips. "I really appreciate that."

Hans grinned. "You're welcome, Prince Ferdinand."

"Any time, Your Highness," Franz replied. There was a beat of silence, and then Franz leaned in, his brown eyes bright as he said quietly, "So, are you looking forward to the catfight, sir?"

"The…catfight?" Ferdinand repeated, confused, the image of Miss Myao and her minions immediately coming to mind, as well as her promise for revenge. His brows knitted together.

Hans whacked Franz on the back of his helmet with his spear, and Ferdinand chuckled at Franz's indignant protest. "Don't call it that, Franz!" Hans reprimanded. With an exasperated huff, he turned back to the prince and clarified, "He's referring to the Leadership round, where the contestants combat each other to prove their _leadership_ skills."

Franz scoffed and stared at Hans incredulously. "Have you _seen_ village girls attempt to fight? It's pathetic. It's going to be a catfight. There's probably going to be nothing but clawing and hair-pulling. If we're lucky, there will be a couple of wimpy punches," Franz declared, adamant, as he waved his spear around for emphasis. "And I would be willing to bet the girls from the upper class are going to be even worse, since they've had more etiquette courses. Maybe they'll bring their tea saucers to throw as weapons at their opponents."

Hans looked ready to whack Franz again, but Ferdinand waved off his attempt as he laughed wholeheartedly. Franz and Hans were always able to cheer him up, and the image Franz painted of a catfight was simply ludicrous. "You never know, Franz," Ferdinand said, still laughing. "There may be someone who brings some knowledge of strategy."

"I would _pay_ to see that," Franz said. Then he declared, "Actually, I would love to see how lovely, little Lady Etoile Rosenqueen intends to fight. I bet she'll whack her opponent with her fan and then plead for mercy when her opponent taps her."

"I don't know," Hans countered, looking away. "She has enough Imotium that could she buy up something interesting to carry her through. After all, she's won the last two Miss Marl's Contests, and I don't think she'll give up so easily this time around, just because of the Leadership Round, and especially with the possibility of queen-ship on the line."

Ferdinand nodded, agreeing with Hans. "I think so, too," he murmured. "Somehow, I have a feeling that _she_ will be the wild card."

Franz sighed. "I guess," he huffed, "but I would _so_ love to see someone do that prissy little face in. Just once. For being the prat that she is."

Ferdinand laughed. "Don't worry, Franz. While I cannot assure you of someone defeating her in the Leadership Round, I now have a feeling that this year's contest is going to be an interesting one."

"I really hope so, sir. From your mouth to the goddess's ears."

* * *

Ferdinand stretched out across his bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands under his head. It was nighttime, and the moon's rays filtered in gently through the window tapestries. He had lit a candle for additional light, with the intention of further studying, but he found himself unable to focus on military strategies. The images Franz painted of the Leadership round came to mind every time to distract him with laughter. He finally abandoned his attempt to study, preferring to become lost in his thoughts.

Would it really be possible to find his future queen through the Miss Marl's Contest? He was sure that the contestants were really excited—at the prospect of marrying the prince and being queen, not for marrying Ferdinand, sadly—but he still did not know what to think of it. Could he really marry a girl that he would only have known for the span of a day? Even if he had the chance to dance with the winner afterwards? And what if someone who did not win caught his eye? Could he justify his interest if she was not a 'candidate'? At the same time, however, he really did not know any other girls beyond Etoile Rosenqueen. He did not think that he could acquaint himself with a girl that well in such a short span of time to properly consider marrying her.

But at the same time, he really, really did _not_ want to marry Etoile.

Once again, his thoughts drifted to the girl he saved from Marjoly's crony and her dragon, Cornet. She was cute, and he enjoyed her open nature, even if he had been unable to talk to her much after he had heroically slayed the dragon to save her, like princes in fairy tales did for the princess. Maybe she would become his princess?

He chuckled to himself. That would be ironic, but a nice sort of irony.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the ceiling. Didn't she have a puppet companion? Did that make Cornet a puppeteer? If she entered the contest (he found himself hoping again that she would), he wondered if she would use puppetry in the Leadership Round. That would be a definite display of leadership skills, and an interesting one at that.

Puppetry… Was she related to Mustaki?

He smiled to the ceiling. If she was related to Mustaki, even if she did not win the contest, no one would question the match due to her (possible) relation to one of the heroes from the war. Furthermore, he would finally have the opportunity to meet the famous puppeteer.

Puppets… Kururu was the puppet's name, wasn't it? Kururu acted awfully humanistic; it was unusual, at least for what he had heard of puppets. Supposedly only those who could hear the voices of the puppets were those that had Ancient blood, but Kururu spoke just like a human. Was that what puppetry skills could do? Did that make Cornet an Ancient, or most likely, a descendant of the Ancients? Who had the Ancient blood in her family, then? Her mother or her father? Or perhaps, if she was related to him, Mustaki himself?

Cornet was a very interesting girl, if her possible bloodline was any indication. He knew that he could always investigate (as she would be anyway, if he were to court her), but he felt disinclined to. Although he had to consider the safety of the Royal Family, to pry into her past felt too much like betrayal of the trust that he hadn't earned yet. For something as important as this, this was something that he wanted to hear from her own lips. Although to be fair, she might not even know herself. For that matter, if something had happened to her parents, no one might know, if the Ancient blood did not stem from Mustaki.

Cornet's possible ancestry created a whole new set of questions. However, the question his mind reverted to was the fact that Kururu was her puppet companion. If Cornet had a puppet companion, that _was_ assuredly a demonstration of skill, to have a puppet who traveled with her constantly. And if Cornet could command Kururu without thought (again, because Kururu spoke out loud, on her own), how much stronger were her skills in battle?

Suddenly, Prince Ferdinand felt an interest in viewing the Leadership Round of the Miss Marl's Contest. And it was not only to (hopefully) watch someone hand Etoile Rosenqueen her pretty head (figuratively). And, if he was lucky, Cornet would be the one to hand it to her.

Smiling to himself in anticipation (and hoping, for the forty-ninth time, that Cornet would actually enter), he stood up and walked over to the desk. With a quick puff, he snuffed the dying candle. Returning to his bed, he fluidly changed into sleeping clothes, crawled beneath the covers, and went to sleep.

_Please enter the contest, Cornet,_ he prayed as he fell asleep. _I would like a chance to speak to you and finish the conversation we did not get to have the first time._

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaand there's Chapter Three! :D I hope that you enjoyed Franz's envisioning of the Leadership Round. I was laughing as I did.

Although, I would like to apologize in advance if anyone was offended by Franz's comments. I did not mean for it to come across as sexist or offensive. However, in defense, I will say that 'catfight' is actually not a bad term for girls that are fighting, at least impromptu. I am basing this off my memory and hearsay, though. There were fights every now and then at my high school, and while I never saw the girls fighting up close (I was only up close for one fight between a couple of boys, for that matter, and that happened because it erupted close to where I was sitting in the cafeteria), that is how I heard the story afterward. They would fight by pulling hair, possibly clawing or slapping. I did hear of one that involved punching, but it was a solid punch from the defender to the aggressor, and the aggressor wound up with a black eye. However, I think that's the outlier fight, lol.

Please R&R and share your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure. That belongs to ATLUS and its respective owners.

**A/N:** I had been attempting to keep a schedule of updating every Monday, but unfortunately, since classes have started up again, I won't be able to keep that. I apologize for the delay and in advance if the period between updates becomes wider as the semester continues. Let's hope for the best, though!

Aaand here we go for Chapter 4! In which Prince Ferdinand almost gets his bobo! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Four_

* * *

"_Help! Assassins! Assassins are trying to kill me in the men's bathroom!"_

The nasally voice pierced through the castle's halls with pleading urgency. As the defendant's cries rose in pitch and plea, guards assembled and rushed to aid the victim, the clanking armor adding to the cacophony. Although the words themselves did not carry into the grounds behind the castle where Prince Ferdinand had been training since early morning with the captains and soldiers, they paused momentarily upon seeing the rush of guards heading toward the west wing of the castle.

"I wonder what is happening," Prince Ferdinand murmured aloud to the captain standing next to him. He joked, "Surely they are not greeting noon with that much excitement." He used the pause to wipe the sweat collecting on his bow and to readjust his grip on the practice sword.

"I have no idea, sir, but I believe that is unlikely," Captain Linus replied with a chuckle, lowering his practice blade in turn for readjustment. He turned to a new recruit, who was practicing closest to the pathway to the castle, ordering, "Garrett! Go find out what is happening!"

Garrett nodded to his commanding officer and hoisted his practice lance over his shoulder. He ran over to where a group of harried soldiers was returning from the west wing and pulled aside the officer in charge, Captain Merrill. After an exchange of words, his jaw dropped slightly before it reset into a professional frown, and he nodded to the officer in thanks.

He ran back in as fast as his tired legs could carry him, finally stopping before the captain. He did his best to stop his panting as he relayed, "There's been an—_huff—_assassination attempt—_huff—_on Minister Golonzo, Captain Linus!"

The group before him stilled, some of the younger recruits paling slightly at the news. The older soldiers, veterans of the war, only adopted focused frowns as they absorbed the news and switched mental gears, preparing themselves for a sweep of the castle for the assailant.

Ferdinand's grip tightened around his practice sword. Although he would trust Minister Golonzo as far he was willing to throw him (which was not an inch), he did not wish him dead, and especially by an assassin. While assassination attempts were not unheard of, it had been some time since there had been an attempt in Marl Castle. He immediately wondered if the minister was even the intended target, or if he had wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time.

"What happened, Garrett?" the captain pressed the recruit. "Where and when? Who was it?"

Garrett took a deep breath, and continued, "The attackers apparently tried to—_huff—_either poison or use a girl to seduce the minister in—_huff—_the Men's bathroom on the second floor." He paused to inhale deeply again, and then said, "It happened just a few minutes ago. The minister—_huff—_could not personally identify the—_huff—_assailants."

"Are they still in the castle?"

Garrett shook his head. "They vanished after the failed attempt."

Captain Linus shook his head. "Then I guess it is no use to have us join in on the search parties. The other squads probably already have that covered. However, we will divide into two groups and guard the Queen and Prince Ferdinand, just in case they are lingering for another attack and Minister Golonzo was not the intended target. There are enough guarding the Minister, at this point." At that, he turned around and began assigning the groups.

Ferdinand lingered at the edge of the conversation, listening with intense interest. Something felt off about the recruit's description of the assassination attempt. It was not in the relay, but in the source. He could not put his finger on it, though. Deciding that he needed to hear it from the victim and view the scene of the crime himself, he asked, "Garrett, did Captain Merrill say how the minister is doing, or where is he now?"

Garrett shook his head. "Captain Merrill only said—_huff—_that he was still in the bathroom."

Ferdinand turned to the captain, who had just finished assigning his orders, and asked, "Captain Linus, is it all right if I go see Minister Golonzo? I wish to see if he is all right."

The captain looked at Ferdinand for a moment, tempted to say no for the sake of security. For all they knew, the assailants were still hiding secretly in the bathroom itself. However, he was curious to hear it from the minister, as well. The Prince should be safe enough, as there would be plenty of guards… He nodded.

"Thank you, Captain Linus."

Prince Ferdinand waited for a moment as a couple of the new recruits gathered up the practice weapons to store them in the armory. Reclaiming his father's sword, he strapped it back onto his belt, and waited for the other soldiers that had become his watchers for the time being to assemble. Once everyone was prepared, they set off for the west wing of the castle.

Time to find out just what had really happened to Minister Golonzo.

* * *

The scent of cooked bobo wafted out of the bathroom. At first, Prince Ferdinand thought it was simply an illusion that his growling stomach had envisioned, as he was still wishing deeply for the bobo he hadn't had the chance to catch. However, upon entering the men's bathroom and viewing the sight of the spilled dish on the floor and covering the minister, Ferdinand wanted to cry.

Perfectly good bobo—_wasted!_

He pulled himself together. He was supposed to be investigating the scene of the attempted assassination, not mourning over the ruined dish. If the food was anything to go by, some new options had just opened up concerning the recent events.

Option 1: The assassins attempted to assassinate Minister Golonzo through poisoned bobo.

Option 2: The assassins were actually seeking himself. It was no secret that his favorite dish was bobo (the cook liked to talk). They attempted to poison him through a faux gift.

Option 3: The Minister stumbled upon one of his fans, who was bringing him a lovely dish of bobo when he was craving it so much. However, the Minister assumed that it was for himself (he was quite full of himself), the girl panicked, threw the dish at him (a waste!), and the Minister started screaming about assassins.

Given the scene of the crime, somehow, Prince Ferdinand was more inclined (almost hopeful) that it had been Option 3. Although no one else was privy to the information (he was not even sure if Minister Golonzo was, although his mother knew, for she had told him), there was a secret entrance out of the castle and into Orange through the last, "Out of Order" stall.

Ferdinand sighed internally to himself. This whole mess may have simply been one of his fans sneaking into the castle to gift him with food. It would also explain how the assassins vanished so quickly and thoroughly. However, while the question now became how said fan knew about the entrance, he pushed that question off until a later date. He needed to focus on Minister Golonzo for now. He turned toward said man, who was now huddled in front of one of the bathroom sinks, attempting to clean himself off and muttering about revenge upon female assassins.

Prince Ferdinand took a step forward. "Minister Golonzo? What has happened here?"

The Minister slowly looked over his shoulder, giving Ferdinand a baleful glare. "Assassins!" he growled. "They attempted to assassinate me by distracting me with an appreciation gift of bobo!"

Prince Ferdinand's eyebrows furrowed. "I can clearly see the evidence of bobo, Minister Golonzo, but how did they attempt to assassinate you with it?"

Golonzo whipped around and pointed at the dish angrily. "After pretending that _that_ was a gift for me, they threw it in my face while I was attempting to graciously thank them. They intended for me to die of suffocation or some other dastardly method! However, I was too smart for them. I dodged enough to leave my mouth free so that I could scream for the guards before they closed in. Those cowards ran away as soon as they heard my mighty voice!"

This was really appearing to be Option 3. He really wanted to raise a skeptical eyebrow, but instead Ferdinand asked, "How were the assassins armed?"

For a second, Minister Golonzo paused as he thought. "The wench had a puppet minion," he finally declared, triumphantly. "She was probably going to use my moment of distraction to give the order for it to kill me with its obnoxious voice, but I was too quick and prevented it."

_Puppet minion?_ This was starting to sound more familiar…

"How would describe the physical appearance of the assassins, Minister?" Captain Linus cut in, his pen poised over the notepad he had been taking notes on.

Minister Golonzo thought back. "The girl was rather cute. She appeared to be about the Prince's age, though a few inches shorter, and had long blond hair down to her waist in a braid. She was wearing a simple dress, and she had a headband in her hair. Her innocent appearance was deceiving," he chuckled mirthlessly.

_That sounds a lot like Cornet,_ Ferdinand thought, a sliver of excited hope bubbling up within him. If it really was Cornet, he was fairly positive that there had been no assassin, and he was flattered that she had gone out of her way to sneak into the castle to bring him food. He really hoped that she had been a part of Option 3. He kept his excited hope from showing on his face, however; they still had to determine that there really had not been an assassination attempt.

Prince Ferdinand and Captain Linus shared a glance while the Minister resumed his grumbling. Apparently, the captain's thought mirrored Ferdinand's in that the "assassin" had been a fangirl. Captain Linus resumed the questioning regardless, giving a small cough to return the Minister's focus. "And the puppet you mentioned?"

"The demon puppet!" he hissed. "It was a tiny little thing, small enough to sit on the witch's shoulder. It was very smart, though. It could talk, and it wore a purple hat and dress. It had butterfly wings, too, and just hovered in the air next to its master. Again, it looked innocuous, but looks were deceiving! If I hadn't acted when I did, it might have cost my life!"

_That is definitely Kururu,_ Ferdinand determined with a mental nod. _Although the description of Cornet was a little shaky—his image might have fit any village girl—there are not that many people who can use or speak to puppets. His description of the puppet definitively coincides with Kururu, as well._ He looked at the Minister, who had once again returned to mumbling about assassins and his bravery, but decided that, for Cornet's sake, he would not say anything. While he could not definitively prove that there had not been an assassination attempt, he similarly only had assumption that it was Cornet and Kururu who had brought the bobo. There was no need to involve them if it was not really them; regardless of the Minister's age, he was still a powerful political figure in the kingdom. He could stir up a lot of trouble for Cornet and Kururu, even if it turned out that they _had_ only been bringing him a gift as opposed to being assassins.

Captain Linus closed his notebook, having obtained other pertinent information that he desired, like times of arrival and how long ago the assassins had vanished. He nodded to Captain Sangird, who had affirmed that he was in charge of guarding the Minister from further assassination attempts, and turned to Ferdinand. "My Prince, we should return you to your chambers."

Prince Ferdinand nodded absentmindedly, watching Minister Golonzo as he resumed the tale of his heroic escape from the dreaded assassins and tuning out the nasally voice. "All right. Thank you, Captain Linus."

* * *

Once the entourage exited the bathroom, it was a fairly short trip to the hall leading to Ferdinand's room. Thankfully, he was allowed privacy in his bedroom, but two extra guards were placed outside his room, in addition to Hans and Franz, at the front of the hall. They snapped to attention as he approached.

"Your Highness," Hans greeted. "How was your weapons practice this morning, sir?"

"We heard that there was an assassination attempt on Minister Golonzo. Are you all right, Prince Ferdinand?" Franz chimed in.

Ferdinand nodded in response to each of them, signaling that they could relax, and decided to start with the first question. "The weapons practice went great, Hans. Thank you for asking," he said. "And you did hear rightly, Franz—there was what could have been an assassination attempt. I am fine, though."

Captain Linus, who had not yet left to report to Queen Siegrind about the events, added, "The apparent assassination attempt is currently being investigated. We will be able to share more details when we get them."

Franz whistled appreciatively. "Pretty daring, attempting to assassinate Minister Golonzo. How did they try?"

"They attempted to murder him with a plate of bobo," Ferdinand supplied.

Hans chuckled quietly, failing to disguise it as a cough behind his hand. "So is that what you meant by "apparent" assassination?" he asked.

Captain Linus nodded. "There is evidence to the affirmative and the contrary in determining if this was a real assassination or not."

"But you believe that it was really one of Prince Ferdinand's fans bringing him food, don't you?" Franz supplied bluntly with a laugh.

Prince Ferdinand blushed lightly and looked away, a little embarrassed now that he was away from the scene of the crime (of wasted bobo), and Captain Linus chuckled, "That is my personal opinion, and I believe it is the Prince's, as well."

Franz reached over to pat Ferdinand on the shoulder. "Aren't you happy that you have such devoted fans, Your Highness? They're willing to risk humiliation at the hands of an egotistical politician to bring you your favorite food." He winked teasingly.

Ferdinand turned back to Franz with a glare that was more embarrassed than annoyed. Franz laughed when the Prince dropped all royal pretention to wrinkle his nose at the guard. "Aw, come on, sir, don't you enjoy the fangirls?" He ruffled Prince Ferdinand's hair, tangled from practice and now messier, and the teen squirmed away with an indignant yelp. The other guards laughed, and Ferdinand did his best to glare, but by now, he could not withhold the laughter, either.

They conversed for a few more minutes, and then Captain Linus escorted Prince Ferdinand into his bedroom. After they had walked away down the hall, Hans whispered to Franz, "You know what, Franz? I think you're the only guard who's brave enough to do that."

Franz turned to Hans, his brows furrowed. "Brave enough to do what?"

"To speak and act like you do with Prince Ferdinand. Most others wouldn't even _dare_."

Franz shrugged, looking away. "Well, someone has to treat Prince Ferdinand like a normal teen every now and then. It probably gets pretty lonely for him, always having people walk on eggshells around him, like they're scared he'll order their executions for a lack of courtesy. I've only seen him loosen up around ourselves, a few of the Captains, one of the cooks (the one who first gave and still cooks him bobo), and, of course, his mother, Queen Siegrind. If he doesn't have someone he can loosen up with, his position will go to his head, and then all of his dreams he's shared of being a good ruler will go _poof_."

Hans nodded understandingly. "Yeah."

* * *

Captain Linus had escorted Prince Ferdinand to the door and then wished him good afternoon. For a moment, he appeared tempted to ask something, but then decided against it. Ferdinand bid him a farewell likewise, and then closed the door, leaning against the shut wood.

He had a feeling he knew what the captain had been tempted to ask—if he knew who the "assassin" was.

The truth was, however, he did not know who she was—he only had a guess. Perhaps it was a good guess, one based on the very probable identity of the puppet, but it was still only a hypothesis. It was best not to share hypotheses before there was sufficient evidence, and with Minister Golonzo roaring up and down about assassins, it was not a proper time to counter it as simply a possible incident with a fangirl. That, too, was speculation, not fact. Unfortunately, no matter how much he, the captain, and probably most of the guards suspected it was a fangirl bringing him bobo (and he knew that he was going to be teased more about it, behind the Minister's back), Golonzo held too much power to pronounce it as anything but an assassin without proof to the contrary.

As Ferdinand was fairly sure that he was the only person who knew Kururu's description (whose was the most incriminating), she and Cornet should be safe. For a moment, he pondered if this could be considered withholding necessary information in a case. He mulled over it, before concluding that, he only had his suspicions, but as he had not been there, he had no proof.

Besides, his instinct (or the bobo?) told him that it had not been an attempted assassination. He would see what his instincts told him in the future, but for now, he did not feel a negative vibe.

He was actually rather flattered that (if it really was Option 3) that they had attempted to bring him his favorite food, especially since he had been unable to catch some himself when he spent that time out of the castle. For a moment, he felt sad(der) that Golonzo had intercepted them; he had almost had the opportunity to talk to Cornet again. Hopefully she would enter the contest.

_Wait…_ His eyes focused harder in thought. _The contest…_

Minister Golonzo would probably be hanging around the Contest, both to watch the ladies and to scope out the candidates. If it had indeed been Cornet sneaking into the castle, and if Golonzo saw her…

Prince Ferdinand grimaced. That would not be a good combination. He would have to keep an eye out for her as well as on the slippery Minister. With all luck, she would enter (and beat Etoile Rosenqueen). With further luck, he could have that conversation with her, and Minister Golonzo would never notice her presence.

Pushing away from the door, Ferdinand walked toward his desk. He had work to finish before his tutor arrived later in the afternoon. After deciding upon which subject to start with, his last thought before he became engrossed in political theories was, _"Three more days until the Contest… I hope that I have a chance to speak to you, Cornet. May Minister Golonzo not interfere…"_

* * *

**A/N:** After realizing that I had a chance to expand upon the "assassination" attempt, I got excited. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it!

Although the news stuck around for a while in the town, part of me wondered by the news of the assassin died down pretty quickly in the castle itself. A part of me considers that they were focusing on the success of the Miss Marl's Contest and finding a bride for Ferdinand, but another part of me wonders if it just wasn't taken seriously. And that's how this take of the chapter was born. What are your opinions? Thanks for the read, and please share your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure. That belongs to ATLUS and its respective owners.

**A/N:** Welcome to the first round of the Miss Marl's Contest! I hope that you enjoy this rendition of the prince's secret thoughts on the matter during the event. Thank you so much for your patience in the time it took to post this chapter. :)

A big thank you to all of my readers, especially those who have favorited and are following this! It really makes my day. And since I didn't have a chance to say so earlier, a big thank you to Memorii Makiko for being my second reviewer! :D

Also, I couldn't remember if the first contestant had a name in the game, so I made up a name (unless I somehow guessed right...), along with other fabricated contestants. Any connection to real people, alive or deceased, is completely coincidental.

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Five_

* * *

"So, on behalf of myself, Queen Siegrind, and my son, Prince Ferdinand, we wish all of the participants of the Miss Marl's Contest the best of luck!" The queen smiled, gave a short wave for the applause following her words, and then gracefully returned to her seat, not a hair out of place.

Perhaps, someday, he would be as graceful as his mother. She carried herself so effortlessly. Instead, Prince Ferdinand used all of willpower to lean against the wooden judging table gently, trying not to tap his pen against the wood and sigh in agitation. He looked down at the list of contestants before him and picked it up to read the first name clearer, pasting a fake smile to hide his desired grimace.

His mother squeezed up upper forearm in encouragement as she sat down. Ferdinand turned to look at her, and she gave him a soft, reassuring smile. Reminded that he would not be forced to marry the winner at the end of the day, he returned it gratefully with a small smile of his own.

The lights darkened upon the stage. Before his eyes could readjust, a spotlight lit up the center. A hush fell over the audience as the announcer declared,

"_Our first contestant is from our home city of Mothergreen. Please welcome Adaline Thaidler!"_

The crowd applauded as a petite girl with short, brown hair stepped gracefully onto the stage. She had round eyes and a quiet smile. She stepped lightly toward the front (Ferdinand could not even hear her footsteps), twirled a couple of times to show grace, curtsied to the audience, and then paused as she saw the crowd. Her eyes widened from the amount of people before her, staring up at her, and she stiffened, shrinking within herself slightly. Seeking to salvage her stage-fright, she gave a quick, nervous bow, stepped back a little less than gracefully, and then gave another bow to where he and his mother were sitting. Once complete, she exited the stage as quickly as she could, her frayed nerves apparent.

The audience clapped politely as she exited the stage, as did Ferdinand and his mother. Recalling Hans's words about evaluating the contestants for the purpose of finding his future queen, he mulled over—he checked the sheet—Adaline's performance. _She started off well enough, graceful and light. I could not even hear her footsteps as she passed us. Based on her dress and appearance, she strikes me as a quiet individual; it probably took a lot of courage for her to even sign up. However, regardless of her smooth entrance, she got stage-fright after seeing the people, and could not maintain her grace. A queen must be able to handle any sort of public situation—and most of time they will be surrounded by many people as a result. The grace she had was a plus, but she lost it too easily. At the current time, her introverted nature makes her unfitting for queenship._

Ferdinand completed his tally sheet before him, and slid it to his mother, who had just finished hers. Queen Siegrind read over his final written commentand turned her head slightly, silently asking for his personal opinion of her. If he had felt a personal interest, fortitude could always be encouraged afterward. Ferdinand shook his head, however, and she nodded to her son. The other two judges passed their scoring sheets over, and then Queen Siegrind shuffled them into a pile. After the queen nodded to the announcer, he called in the second person.

"_Our second contestant comes from the small village of Orange. Please welcome Sonara Prestirk!"_

And so the contest continued in that fashion.

* * *

By the time the thirty-seventh contestant entered the stage, Prince Ferdinand was tempted to summon Captain Linus and ask to be stabbed with the soldier's strongest lance to end his misery.

Ferdinand sighed, veiling the aggravation as a simple exhalation while reflecting on the competition thus far. None of the contestants thus far had had the silent feet of the first contestant, but plenty had the grace, and most even had more. Most of those who had more had had smooth exits as well. Of course, a persistent few followed in the example of the first by acquiring stage fright, and a few tripped, as well. Most recovered, but some did not. One contestant who did not welled up in tears at the immediate sign of failure and fled the stage. She was automatically marked off the possibility of queenship. _"Contestant could not maintain composure under the stressful situation, and therefore would not make a good candidate for queenship."_ A part of him became concerned that he was not giving the contestants toward the end a fair shot due to his frustration.

Unfortunately, as contestant thirty-seven exited the stage by blowing a suggestive kiss to Ferdinand, he finally admitted that his frustration was warranted as he forced himself to give a stiff smile in return. It was a far cry from his mother's talent for diplomacy, but it was all he could manage to the incorrigible contestant. He really did not appreciate the attempt to flirt with him during the contest, and marked her off with a little extra force in his pen. Unfortunately, as she had been the eighth girl to attempt such an exit with him, his annoyance was only growing. His mother, sensing his frustration, brushed his hand with hers and smiled placatingly at him. He sighed to vent it out, and gave a tired half-smile in return as his hand loosened around the pen, saving it from a horrific demise.

As Ferdinand did his best to loosen in his seat, he admitted to himself that the contestant behavior was not the only thing setting him on edge. While the other two judges finished writing their tally sheets, he snuck a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, Minister Golonzo still lurked behind the curtain, a few feet behind the judges' table. However, whether the minister was spying on he and his mother or the contestants, he could not determine. Regardless, his presence made Ferdinand uneasy. In fact, Minister Golonzo had almost been hovering close to him the last couple of days, and it had left the prince feeling edgy, as though he were the fly and the minister the trap spider, who was simply waiting to spring.

Once again, the tally sheets were passed over. His mother did not even attempt to ask for Ferdinand's personal opinion on Contestant Number 37, and simply arranged the sheets into a small stack before laying them horizontal in the alternating tower before her. The queen nodded to the announcer, who had been wiping sweat from his brow in the interim behind the stage curtain. The announcer glanced at the contestant sheet, returned it to his coat jacket, and then quickly returned to the stage, announcing,

"_Our thirty-eighth contestant is from our home city of Mothergreen. Please welcome the lovely Etoile Rosenqueen!"_

Ferdinand stiffened in his seat. He snatched the contestant paper in front of him and brought it so close to his face that his nose nearly touched the grains. He nearly begged the goddess that the announcer had not just said what he thought he heard him say. However, as soon as his eyes passed over the sheet, he knew that he was not mistaken.

Etoile Rosenqueen was finally making her appearance.

But what an appearance it was. True to her status, she had spared no expense for her dress, readily setting her aside from the many commoner girls who had signed up and worn simple dresses—most likely, the best dresses that they owned. Etoile, however, the daughter of the wealthy Rosenqueen family that she was, was decked in new, custom-fit, layered pink dress that frilled toward the bottom, stylish light brown boots, and a dainty shawl. And if her dress did not set her apart, her accessories did. Her expensive jewelry sparkled in the spotlight, and the large feather fan lightly clasped in her delicate hand added an almost exotic air to her. Her hair was ironed perfectly to end in curls at the tips of her hair.

The audience _ooh-_ed and _aah-_ed as she gracefully entered the stage. Prince Ferdinand stifled a gag. He disguised it as a quiet cough, but his mother, knowing what he had truly hidden, sent him a warning look. He mustered his most innocent air in response.

However, as much as he avoided Etoile's presence, she provided quite the show. She stepped so lightly and gracefully that she almost appeared to float. She twirled so dainty that she nearly danced. She knew all of the precise moments to open and twirl her fan, ever so gently, and how to mysteriously hide her pretty face behind it, showing off her dazzling eyes. The audience sat mesmerized, and if Ferdinand was willing to admit it, Etoile mesmerized him to a small fraction, as well—at least to the point that he would later admit to watching her performance. Regardless of how well she was doing, he would still refuse to marry her.

Finally, she graced the audience with a dainty curtsy. Dancing by the judges' table, she curtsied daintily again, and then winked at Ferdinand as she exited. His face burned slightly, and when he whipped his head down to stare at the table, Etoile had, thankfully, already exited the stage. He cursed his face for heating up, but he could not determine if his reaction stemmed from subdued annoyance, or, if he had finally admitted to himself that, regardless of her personality, Etoile was quite an attractive young lady.

Ferdinand finally blamed his hormones, before he quickly stuffed them away into the deep, dark corner that he normally kept them in.

He stared at the judging sheet before him for a moment, questioning how honest he should be on her evaluation. In the end, he grudgingly gave Etoile (almost) full marks, if only because he could not remember any glaring problems in her presentation (with the exception of the wink, but he could not justifiably deduct many points for that). He shoved the paper toward his mother as soon as he had finished, as though the paper burned him with its touch. His mother stifled a laugh behind her hand at the red tinge on his cheecks and the words in his comment section: _I am forced to give near full marks because I cannot justifiably or fairly deduct many points from her (with the exception of for the wink). However, I would like to firmly state that, regardless of how she performs during the remaining competition, I still refuse to marry her, Mom. _Queen Siegrind felt both quite amused and slightly disappointed as she gathered the tally sheets from the remaining judges (who both gave Etoile full marks). She decided that she would not tell her son that she had shared the view of the other judges in giving Etoile full marks.

Prince Ferdinand shifted the pen agitatedly in his hand, suddenly wishing that the Contest would be over. He knew that he would risk not being able to see Cornet, but he desperately wanted to escape from the stage.

He sighed. That was _if_ Cornet entered the Miss Marl's Contest at all. He gripped the pen a little tighter between his fingers, resisting the urge to look down and read through the remaining names of the contestants. He was afraid of not finding her name, or, since he did not know her last name, becoming excited for a different girl who happened to be named Cornet as well. He had no idea how common of a name Cornet was.

"_And now," _the announcer called,_ "our thirty-ninth and final contestant comes from the small village of Orange. Please give a warm welcome for Cornet Espoir!"_

Prince Ferdinand froze, stuck between elation for the end of the first round of the contest and the fact that the contestant's name was Cornet. He looked up hopefully. _Cornet?_ Ferdinand dared to hope. _Could she really be her?_

However, as Cornet entered the stage, he barely managed to stifle the honest-to-goodness laughter bubbling at his lips. He could not prevent the chuckles, though.

The other judges did not share his opinion on the matter. Instead, they gaped openly and narrowed their eyes, affronted. His mother merely smiled, amusement lighting her eyes while her brow furrowed in a slightly confused manner.

Ferdinand had seen thirty-eight other ladies enter the stage. While he knew that a dress would have been more appropriate, for the first time, he could not help smiling at an entrance. He had a thought he never expected to have: _She is gutsy._ Ferdinand liked gutsy, too—gutsiness was a necessary quality in a queen. He leaned forward toward the controversial contestant from the judges' table, interested and hopeful.

Cornet lumbered onto the stage in a costume. It was not just any kind of costume, though—it resembled a large dog with bat wings and horns, and Ferdinand was quite interested in learning where she unearthed it. He felt that he recognized it, but he could not distinctly recall where from.

However, the unorthodox costume's size presented a problem. It not only dwarfed her slight form, it hid and nearly buried her. For the first time in the competition, Prince Ferdinand could not quite identify the contestant.

Cornet advanced toward the front of the stage. Ferdinand caught a flash of blonde hair, but so many girls had blonde hair that it eliminated hair color as a determining identifier. He did notice that the entrant was having difficulty moving in the bulky costume. He realized belatedly that the size and weight had affected her grace a moment later after she curtsied awkwardly to the audience (an amazing feat in the dog suit) and attempted to turn.

And tipped over. In embarrassingly slow motion.

She froze. In her effort to stand and save face, she twitched, unable to return movement to her limbs.

The audience broke out into hysterical laughter.

Ferdinand looked away politely, attempting to hide his own laughter that was bubbling to the surface. Although this girl's initial appearance in the suit had cracked his composure, this sudden new development broke completely through the stress from the contest. He recomposed himself by the time the contestant shakily stood a few seconds later. Her back was to him, but the dog costume shifted forward, signaling that she had managed a bow to the audience, which was still howling in laughter. She released an awkward laugh, turned, and gave the quickest bow to the judges' table.

The costume darkened her face as she pulled up from the bow, but Ferdinand could see that her blonde hair was long, pulled back in what he hoped was a braid. He felt a stab of hope. He offered a smile, praying that she was indeed the Cornet that he had saved, but he was disappointed that she did not receive it. Her eyes were averted, and he could see her face reddening through the shadows.

Despite that, for all intents and purposes, her fast pace off the stage amounted to fleeing, Prince Ferdinand felt a different emotion that he had not expected: impressed. He pulled his judging sheet over to him, a smile on his lips as he wrote: _Although I am forced to admit that Cornet's costume was unorthodox for the competition, it was very original. I was also impressed by her gutsiness to attempt it, an admirable quality. If her costume was meant as a substitute for a dress, she is furthermore resourceful and daring. If this is indeed the case, although she probably recognized that it would hinder her physical grace on the stage, she continued steadfastly against odds. Despite an unfortunate upset, she maintained her emotional composure in her departure. These are all admirable qualities I am searching for in my future queen. I hope that she does well in the remaining rounds, for I very much wish to meet her._ He murmured a prayer silently that this contestant had indeed been Cornet, and then handed his critique sheet over to his mother with a genuine smile.

Queen Siegrind took the sheet from her son in surprise. Although he had been forced to mark off points from Cornet due to her choice of wear and the decreased grace caused by said costume, he had still marked her as highly as he could, she noted. However, after she read his comments, she grinned whole-heartedly.

She had not marked off many points on Cornet, either. She knew that the other two judges would probably hammer her for the costume alone, but she shared her son's views. Besides, the point system was a mere formality.

The real deciding factor of the Miss Marl's Contest hinged on her son's interest on the contestants. As long as Cornet performed reasonably well in the next two events, she was practically guaranteed a spot.

If Cornet withdrew after this event, she could always extend an invitation toward the girl. Her son rarely expressed an interest in speaking to girls his age. If Ferdinand declared a desire to become more familiar with this girl, then his mother would do all in her power to help the relationship blossom.

Queen Siegrind did not even view the other two judges' sheets as she set Cornet's marks on the top of the stack. The top two contenders had already been chosen: Etoile, based on points, and Cornet, based on her son's request.

* * *

Prince Ferdinand leaned back in his chair contentedly as his mother rearranged the ascending pile of critique papers in front of her. He yearned to stretch his arms above his head and yawn as he returned life to his cramped muscles, but propriety declared the desire void. He settled for standing and (acceptably) twisting so that he could sneak a view behind him. Sure enough, Minister Golonzo still lurked behind the curtain, but his eyes lingered on the curtain that Cornet had used to exit.

His eyebrows furrowing slightly, Ferdinand chanced a lingering gaze upon the politician. Minister Golonzo, still distracted by some thoughts in his mind, took no notice of the prince. Instead, he finally narrowed his eyes dangerously as he mouthed to the curtain: _I have finally found you, assassin of mine. _ With that silent declaration, he whipped around and skulked away, surprisingly as silently as he had appeared.

Ferdinand narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure. He needed to keep a vigilant eye on the minister, for Cornet's sake as well now.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope that you enjoyed this first round of the Miss Marl's Contest.

If you're like me and wondered how Cornet made the final round, when her first round had appeared to go so disastrously, I figured that (besides the game's storyline demanding that she—and us, as the player—would have to), in order to make the final round, there had to have been more going on at the Contest than simply a point tally (which I used both for convenience and because the vast majority, if not all, contest winners are determined through some form of point system). Thus, Cornet got extra points for what Ferdinand mentions, like originality and gutsiness, and also because of his request. Although, she could have simply made it due to being the only other contestant after the second round, where everyone jumps ship after the other contestants see the machine guns that Etoile and her cronies bring to fight with (speaking of which, how did nobody die?).

What are your thoughts on the contest? Please R&R!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: _Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure_ belongs to ATLUS and its respective owners.

**A/N:** Hey, it's been a while. Never fear, though—I have not abandoned this story! You even have a slightly longer chapter this time around, so yay!

I feel like this is mostly a filler chapter, but I'll let you be the judge of that, and I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless.

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Six_

* * *

"So, what did you think of the first round today, Your Highness?"

Prince Ferdinand pondered his response. "It was long and tiring," he responded truthfully. He chuckled. "It did have its interesting moments, though."

Franz grinned. "I heard about the last contestant. Pretty daring, going on stage in a costume. Even more daring since I heard some stories of the costume being a demonic dog." He sighed with a wistful smile. "I wish I could have seen it."

Hans sent a dead-panned look at Franz, the recipient immediately clearing his throat and straightening in response. His innocent air did not leave him, though, so Hans settled for rolling his eyes at his companion before turning his attention back to the prince. "We heard rumors of the contest that filtered through the castle," continued Hans, rephrasing his colleague's words. "Is the rumor true about the last contestant being on stage in some sort of costume?"

Ferdinand gave in and laughed again at the memory. "It's true, Hans. However, I would not have called it a 'demonic dog,' as Franz did. Sure, it had horns and bat wings, but I didn't disapprove of it."

"Horns and bat wings?" Franz whistled appreciatively, before he laughed, "Now I _know_ that the little lady had guts."

Hans seconded Franz's last comment with a nod. "What did the other judges think, though? It's definitely a breach in tradition."

"Who cares what the other judges thought?" Franz interjected. "If Ferdinand says that he liked it, she should become an automatic winner. After all, it's his bride that this contest is selecting candidates for, not the old fogies on the panel that signed up to ogle at the young girls." He paused, then continued hurriedly, slightly abashed, "Er, excusing the Queen, Your Highness."

Ferdinand chuckled, having nearly forgotten that his mother had sat on the panel while Franz coined the other judges "old fogies". He knew that, whatever Franz said about the other judges, he honestly had nothing but respect for Queen Siegrind, and hadn't been grouping her with the others. "No offense taken, Franz."

Franz breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did you see anyone of interest?" asked Hans. "Excluding the gusty girl at the end?"

Ferdinand shook his head. "No one stuck out to me besides her." He shrugged. "I am not worried, though. I have high hopes for the last contestant, if only that there will hopefully be another winner besides Etoile Rosenqueen."

"Did Etoile trip on stage?" Franz asked a little too eagerly as he rejoined the conversation, his flush of embarrassment having disappeared. "_Please_ tell me that she committed something to earn her demerit points."

Prince Ferdinand stared solemnly at Franz and sighed. "I am sorry to inform you, Franz, but unfortunately for us, she had nearly perfect marks."

Franz pretended to sob on Hans' shoulder, lightly punching his friend's armor in mock dismay. "Oh, _say_ it isn't so…!" he wailed dramatically.

"Nearly perfect marks?" Hans questioned, ignoring his partner's actions. "If she always performs spectacularly, what could she possibly receive demerit marks for?"

"She winked at me. I had to mark her off for something."

Franz relinquished as dramatic act as he doubled over in laughter next to Hans, hanging onto Hans' shoulder for support. Hans couldn't resist joining in on his friend's laughter, either. Prince Ferdinand simply stared back, determinedly unashamed of his actions. Eventually, however, he could not maintain his own straight face, and he descended into wholehearted laughter with Franz and Hans.

"Nice one, sir," Franz managed to say between gasps for breath. He clapped Ferdinand on the shoulder. "I approve wholeheartedly of her demerit points!"

Hans simply rolled his eyes affectionately after his laughter ceased and decided to change the subject. "What do you plan on doing until the second round begins, Your Highness?"

Catching his breath, Ferdinand responded, still grinning, "I haven't decided yet. I had figured that I would simply spend it in my room until then." He paused for a second, slightly paling as he murmured, "At least, I figure that it's the best route to avoid being mobbed before the dance."

Franz nodded. "I would say so." He looked around conspiratorially, before leaning to dramatically whisper, "You'd better hurry then, Prince, I think I hear the hordes coming!"

Prince Ferdinand nodded with a grin. "I'd better hide quickly, then." With a backward wave, he retreated into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

The door closed behind Ferdinand with a soft click. As he leaned against the doorway, he couldn't help but smile. Franz and Hans always managed to make him laugh. He hoped that he had an opportunity to converse for longer periods of time with them once the Contest was over.

The Miss Marl's Contest.

Prince Ferdinand's smile fell slightly as he remembered Minister Golonzo skulking behind the curtain and his venomous parting words to Cornet after she exited off of the stage. His fingers clenched tensely against the grains of wood in his door.

Could Cornet really have been the "assassin"? Was she even the same Cornet that he had met in the woods? What if she was a different Cornet?

Prince Ferdinand shook his head immediately, dismissing the thought. Perhaps it was simply hope, but something told him that this was the same Cornet. It was the same feeling that had saved him in the past, so he decided to trust it. Cornet Espoir _must_ be the same Cornet that traveled with the puppet Kururu earlier in the Wonder Woods.

As far the Minister Golonzo's "assassination" went, the plate of bobo left behind after the "attack" was enough to see that there hadn't truly been an assassin. Furthermore, the soldiers in charge of the investigation had tested the remains of the dish for poison, and no traces of the usual venoms were discovered. (In fact, the only thing they had concluded was that it had been a waste of a good dish of bobo. His heart ached at the wasted bobo that could have been his.)

However, despite the fact that there really hadn't been an "assassination attempt," Ferdinand knew that he couldn't ignore the situation, especially now that Minister Golonzo had identified a target. With his clout and stubbornness, the Minister would be willing to chase after Cornet to the ends of Marl Kingdom to administer "justice." Ferdinand sighed. The worse part of the matter was that Golonzo, even though unpopular, had enough power to carry out his declaration of war. If Cornet had enough political clout from her family, the way Etoile Rosenqueen did, she may be able to fight allegations. However, if she was simply a common girl…

Ferdinand ran a tense hand through his hair. He didn't want to think about how Minister Golonzo could make Cornet's life a living hell for attempting to bring him a dish of bobo. In fact, given the Minister's probable sights on the throne, Ferdinand would not be surprised if he sprung his allegations after Cornet was declared a candidate for the Queenship. The Minister would probably even hint that the Prince had been involved, attempting to push Ferdinand away from his inheritance.

Ferdinand's hand fisted against the door. As the Prince, he still had politics on his side. Minister Golonzo would not—could not—make such allegations lightly. Golonzo would probably wait until Ferdinand and Cornet were seen together before making such an accusation. As an additional plus, Minister Golonzo still obeyed Queen Siegrind. As long as the Queen was in power, Ferdinand should be fine. Cornet, on the other hand…

Was there no one whom could give her some protection politically…?

Prince Ferdinand's eyes widened. Of course! Wasn't there the chance that she was the granddaughter of Mustaki, the puppeteer hero of the war? If that was true, Minister Golonzo could not target lightly a member of the puppeteer's family without risking damage to the honor of the war hero—or to his own, should the allegations prove false, or if the puppeteer's honor and clout proved stronger than the minister's in the end.

Ferdinand smiled. Cornet might see the end of the Miss Marl's Contest, and he just might get to have the conversation with her that he didn't finish the first time around.

He pushed off the door and then was startled slightly by quiet knocks.

"Ferdinand?" his mother's voice called from behind the wood. "May I enter?"

Prince Ferdinand quickly stepped away from door to stand toward the center of the room. Knowing it was too late to pretend to have been studying, he simply moved aside to give his mother room to enter. "Come in," he answered.

The door opened with a smooth motion, his mother following with a dainty flourish and then closing the door behind her with little sound. Ferdinand could not help but admire her again as his mother moved ever-so-gracefully. He once again hoped that he would someday be as lithe.

"Have you been studying well during the interim between the rounds?" Queen Siegrind asked, knowing full well the answer she was about to receive but asking anyway.

Prince Ferdinand grinned at his mother, granting her his most innocent air. "Of course, Mom. I came straight to my room and have done nothing since."

His mother chuckled, rolling her eyes affectionately. "Of course you did. Why did I even ask?" She stepped lightly over to a nearby chair, sitting down with only the slightest rustle of her skirts. She then looked up and grinned at her son, clasping her hands in her lap as she attempted to reign in her excitement. "All right, now I get to pester you with questions, like any excited mother. What do you think of this girl that you're interested in?"

Ferdinand chuckled, moving over to sit in another nearby chair. If his mother was getting comfortable, she intended to use the entire interim time to talk with him. He may as well get comfortable as well. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, relaxed. "What do I think of her?" he reiterated. He looked at his mother with a grin. "I liked her style. Competing in a costume was pretty gutsy. It definitely set her apart from the rest."

His mother laughed. "Yes, I will grant her that much. The other judges didn't share your opinion, but their opinions don't really matter. We're looking for your bride, not theirs." She shrugged good-naturedly. "I am really happy that you have found _someone_ that you're interested in. However, you must tell me," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "As you rarely put forth interest in meeting other girls, what has made this one so special? Have you met before?"

Prince Ferdinand couldn't hide the light blush that graced his cheeks. His mother was good. Ferdinand wondered if her (for the most part) consistent all-knowing insight was something that developed after she became queen, if this was something that developed after she became a mother, or if this was something that all women secretly possessed. He was slightly afraid if the answer turned out to be the latter—who knew what Cornet might already know, then?

He pondered how to phrase his answer, but between his mother's excited and expectant gaze and his memory of meeting Cornet in the woods (he briefly wondered if she had kept the scrap of makeshift bandage or tossed it, as girls tended to do strange things when boys were concerned), he suddenly found heat rising in his cheeks, and he looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"Aha!" his mother announced triumphantly with a grin. "You have met the lucky lady before! What was she like? Are you on a first-name basis with her? Where is she from?" She leaned back in her chair and pulled out her fan, fanning herself lightly with it. "Ah, my son is growing up so fast. Where have the years gone?"

Ferdinand crossed his arms over his chest as his blush deepened. He looked determinedly away. "Stop teasing me, Mom! This isn't funny."

His mother sighed in a pretense of exasperation as she lowered her fan, closing it was with a quiet _click._ "You won't grant your mother a small amount of joy in her old age?"

"Please don't try that with me, Mom. You're not old yet, so you're not allowed to use that excuse." He chuckled, which was what Queen Siegrind was aiming for. She grinned at him in return.

"So," she continued, "how did you meet Cornet? You admitted that you had met before."

Ferdinand nodded. "I met her a few days ago, the last time that I went to the Wonder Woods after visiting Orange."

"Ah, the trip in which you didn't get your intended bobo."

Must she tease him about that, too? He must make it too obvious, or she must know him that well. Then again, she was his mother. "Yes, Mom, the trip in which I didn't get my bobo," he sighed, but trailed off wistfully.

His mother simply grinned at him. "All right, all right. I'm sorry for interrupting you. Please continue." She was sitting with an inch or two of space between herself and the backrest, his mother's equivalent of sitting at the edge of her seat in expectation.

Prince Ferdinand rolled his eyes affectionately—inside his mind, of course, as he would not dare do so literally in front of his mother. "I was resting against a tree, mulling over how the trip into Orange had gone, and she and her puppet companion walked by. They were looking for Red Imotium."

"She had a puppet companion?" his mother asked, interested. "It was walking on its own?"

"Actually, it was flying. It's a small fairy puppet," he responded, gesturing Kururu's approximate height with his hands. "I was wondering if she could be a relative of Mustaki?" He slid the question in as casually as possible, but their futures just might depend on the answer. He waited with a hitched breath.

His mother hummed. "She probably is. There are not many people left who can communicate with puppets, much less control them. She probably is of Ancient descent." A thoughtful look suddenly crossed her features. "I wonder…"

Ferdinand, having relaxed at the probability of Cornet's political protection from Golonzo, perked up with curiosity. "You wonder what, Mom?"

"Did she have a horn with her?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. A horn? "Do you mean like a musical horn or a hunting horn?" he asked.

"A musical horn," his mother clarified with a nod. "Did she have one?"

Why was his mother interested in a _horn_? He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling in thought. _Did_ Cornet have a horn with her? He wasn't sure if he remembered if she did; he had been more worried with her suddenly discovering him, and then he was preoccupied with the dragon. "I'm not sure," he finally said. "Why do you ask?"

His mother exhaled a sigh of disappointment, but she waved the question off. "Don't worry about it. It's a story for another time, but I think you'll enjoy it. For now," her eyes regained their excited gleam, and Ferdinand knew that he'd be continuing the story again, "I would like to hear the rest of the story in the forest."

Ferdinand shrugged off the confusion left behind from his mother's question. There was no use in pressuring her to explain herself; she would do so in her own time. "As I said, she was in the Wonder Woods looking for Red Imotium. She mentioned to her puppet that—"

"To her puppet?" his mother interrupted. "Not to you?"

"She was a good distance away and had not noticed me," Ferdinand explained, adding silently, "_I was also kind of hiding behind a tree. And some bushes. They make great cover when girls unexpectedly appear out of nowhere."_

"All right, as long as it does not indicate a lack of awareness," his mother added, a hint of concern lacing her words.

Ferdinand shook his head. "I did not make my presence known and was a distance away. I wouldn't worry about her awareness." He added silent again, _"I might worry about her stubbornness. She almost died because of it."_

Queen Siegrind hummed again, signaling that it was time for him to continue his story. Prince Ferdinand nodded slightly.

"Cornet mentioned to her puppet that the Red Imotium had been disappearing as of late. I wondered if that might mean that there were bandits nearby who were stealing Imotium. I became concerned for her well-being, so I decided to make sure that she would be safe." Prince Ferdinand desperately hoped that his mother would not compare his actions to him stalking her.

Thankfully, for once, his mother appeared to decide not to tease him. Instead, she complimented, "That was chivalrous of you." She smiled at him. "I'm proud of you."

Ferdinand glowed internally, but did his best to hide it, only smiling. "Thank you."

"So? What happened next?" his mother asked, her excitement building.

Prince Ferdinand was tempted to say, _"Then I kind of went and slew a dragon for her. That's a nice way to start a relationship, right? You know, rescuing the damsel in distress and the like?"_ Instead, he said, "I had brought Imotium with me, and some of it was Red Imotium. I had hoped to start a conversation by helping her look for Imotium after offering her some of mine." He paused. "However, her puppet found me first."

Queen Siegrind chuckled. "Her puppet did? What did it do?"

"I managed to keep her quiet," he responded. "Then I offered her the Imotium to take to Cornet. However, the puppet planned on revealing my presence after taking the Imotium."

"Did you get to talk to Cornet then?"

Ferdinand shook his head. "No. Several cats wearing overalls appeared."

"Cats wearing overalls?" His mother's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "That's rather strange."

"It is," Prince Ferdinand nodded. "Apparently, they had been the ones taking the Red Imotium. Their mistress was a cat-lady named Miss Myao. She claimed to be an underling of Marjoly."

"Marjoly?" his mother reiterated in a quiet whisper, her face somber. "That's not good. While that's not a name I have heard in a long while, it's also not one used lightly." She took a quiet breath. "What happened then?"

"She demanded that Cornet hand over her Red Imotium. She said that if she did not hand it over, she would summon her dragon."

"A dragon?"

Ferdinand nodded. "She actually summoned it. It was quite large." He paused. "However, Cornet refused to hand over her Imotium. Her puppet did, and tried to convince her to do the same, but Cornet wouldn't budge."

His mother chuckled lightly. "Well, courage in the face of injustice is a good trait, but one needs to remember self-preservation, too. In this instance, I would have accepted it if she had handed over the Imotium, but I find myself more impressed that she didn't."

"I agree. I admired her courage and tenacity, but I was really concerned that she was about to die." He shook his head to himself. "Anyway, at that point, Miss Myao told her dragon to attack her. I didn't want to let her get hurt, so I jumped in and managed to defeat the dragon. After that, Miss Myao and her cats left, and it was just Cornet and myself."

Ferdinand paused, but Queen Siegrind wasn't having that. "And then?" she pushed excitedly.

"Nothing." When his mother looked confused, Ferdinand shrugged lightly. "I didn't have a good opportunity to speak to her. She had a cut on her hand, so I bandaged it for her. However, she was in shock from the dragon, and my attendants came looking for me a moment later." He sighed unhappily. "She couldn't even tell me her name herself. The only reason that I know that her name's Cornet is because I was listening earlier when her puppet called her by name."

Queen Siegrind huffed. "Honestly. Why couldn't your attendants have found you a moment later?"

Prince Ferdinand chuckled, waving his hands before him in an attempt to placate his mother. "It's all right, really. After all, I'll probably get a chance to speak to her here, right? Then I'll find out if it's really her."

His mother nodded, relinquishing some of her annoyance. "All right," she said. Suddenly, she brightened. "I just thought of something. You have a better way of knowing if this is the Cornet that you met in the forest."

He straightened. "How?"

"Well, she's a puppeteer, no?" she asked. Ferdinand nodded. "Then, regardless of whether she uses the fairy puppet, she'll probably be using puppets in the second round. If she uses puppets, there's a very good probability that she's the one."

His mother was right. "And if she can use her puppets in battle, there will be no doubt whether she is a relative of Mustaki!" Ferdinand finished happily.

Queen Siegrind nodded. "Of course."

Ferdinand began to stand, but his mother reached over to take his arm. "What is it, Mom?" His eyebrows furrowed in concern at the clouded expression on her face.

"I…" she paused for a second, before turning back to look at him. "I wanted to ask you something about Cornet, actually. I heard a rumor from—"

_Gooooong! Gooooong!_

"What is it, Mom?" Ferdinand asked again, concerned.

Queen Siegrind sighed as she shook her head. "Later, Ferdinand. Don't worry about it." She offered a smile. "Let's go. The second round is about to start."

* * *

**A/N:** So, what was Queen Siegrind about to ask? I guess that we'll have to wait to find out!

I'm not sure if I'm going to post Chapter Seven sooner rather than later, and since I'm heading back to school, I'm not sure when I'll have the chance to update again. I'm sorry for the wait, and thank you for your continued patience!

Also, I hate to sound like a review monger, and I'm not going to withhold chapters for them, but if it at all possible, would you leave a review? I will continue writing my best, but without comments, I don't know how you all think this is turning out right now. I'd appreciate it greatly if you could leave even a few words. Thanks, everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: _Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure_ belongs to ATLUS and its respective owners.

**A/N:** And we're back for Chapter Seven! This feels a little filler chapter-ish, but on the plus side, you get more behind-the-scenes stuff of our favorite Marl Kingdom royals that you don't get to see in the game. Queen Siegrind surprised me. She's quite more of a talker than I initially anticipated. Oh well. At least we know where Ferdinand inherited it from now! It's so fun to get inside the prince's head, especially when he's adding his silent commentary. His silent commentary is so fun.

Also, after having a chance to look over the game again, I'm realizing that he's developing a little differently from the original storyline, but I guess that that's why this is a fanfiction, right?

I hope that you enjoy reading him as much as I have writing him! I apologize for the long wait. Here's the new installment!

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Seven_

* * *

Prince Ferdinand sat to the right of Queen Siegrind, doing his best not to fidget uncomfortably as he leaned forward to get a better view of the floor below.

"_Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Leadership Round of the Miss Marl's Contest!"_ the announcer at the right end of the balcony proclaimed. He gestured to the group of twenty girls or so that were arranged in a group in the arena. _"These lovely ladies who passed the first found of the contest will now compete to demonstrate their tactical abilities!"_

The general crowd that had managed to attain seats in the viewing rooms around the arena below cheered in anticipation, while the aristocrats and royals on the balcony clapped from their positions as well.

As the announcer went on to explain how Round Two would work (a tournament style elimination) and the rules (no killing, maiming, etc.), Ferdinand snuck a sideways glance toward Minister Golonzo, who was sitting proudly to his mother's left. Golonzo did not even notice Ferdinand's glance, as the minister was staring intently on the group of girls below.

Finally, the Minister's roving eyes stopped and narrowed. As he mouthed, _"Found you, wench,"_ Ferdinand's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as his muscles tensed.

The Minister was indeed after Cornet. He had to watch her back for her—

Queen Siegrind nudged Ferdinand subtly. When he turned to look at her, she gave him a small warning smile followed by a comforting squeeze on his arm. _"Not now,"_ she mouthed.

Prince Ferdinand sighed as he nodded once to her. It did no good to get worked up over the Minister. After all, Golonzo would not make a move in front of the Queen—in fact, he could not, unless he had definitive evidence of Cornet being his "assassin".

Ferdinand returned his attention to the contest before him, ignoring the silent war raging two seats down.

"_Now that all of our lovely ladies have selected their numbers,"_ the announcer continued, _"we will proceed with the first match. For their safeties, the ladies who are not participating in the current match will please return to the waiting room."_ He paused, then proceeded, _"I am proud to announce that the first match of the Miss Marl's Contest! In the Red Corner, weighing in at a feathery eighty-seven pounds, is Miss Salyra Dereman of Orange! And in the Blue Corner, weighing in at a petite ninety pounds, is Miss Etoile Rosenqueen!"_

Ferdinand hid the shiver as best he could as the last name was called. He felt his mother mask a chuckle as a quiet sneeze at his recurring reaction.

As he leaned back in his chair, he had to wonder—what was the announcer's point of announcing the weights of the girls competing? It wasn't like this was a wrestling match. Did he honestly think that Ferdinand was going to choose his future queen on the girl's weight alone? Or was it supposed to be an indicator of athletic talent or of femininity?

Prince Ferdinand pushed it from his mind with a sigh. There was no use in asking questions that he would receive no answers to.

"_Begin!"_ the announcer shouted.

* * *

Prince Ferdinand sat stiffly in his chair in his room, his hands gripping the armrests as he recovered from his shock.

Three minutes. No, less than three minutes. That was how long the match had lasted. He still couldn't believe what he had seen.

_How had it even been allowed?_

He remembered joking with Hans and Franz about the girls using teacups and fans to fight with because they would not know how to use real weapons, but Etoile Rosenqueen took the tournament up to a whole new level. Admittedly, her opponent had appeared to have had some weapons training, as she had brought a staff with her to fight with, but Etoile and her goons had used machine guns and rocket launchers.

_Machine guns and rocket launchers._ Where had they been hiding them? (For that matter, where had _Etoile_ been hiding hers? Sure, her minions could have hidden them—sort of, or at least the guns—in their impeccable suit jackets, but Etoile? Had she summoned hers by magic or hidden it beneath her skirts?)

Prince Ferdinand ran a tense hand through his hair as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Were machine guns and rocket launchers even allowed? They were relatively new weapons that the engineers in the Research Department had developed after intensive study of projectile weapons left behind by the Ancients. They were still under study for combat usage within the castle, as they were fixing construction kinks—how had she managed to get a hold of_ working firearms_? And how was her petite little form able to deal with the force of the recoil? _He_ could barely deal with the recoil, not to mention that the gun had to be constantly reloaded. As far as weapons went, Ferdinand preferred his father's sword, even if a gun or rocket launcher allowed for long-range attacks.

Regardless, flaunting rare, currently unstable weapons had been dangerous enough—but to use it in the Miss Marl's leadership round? Her opponent was lucky to still be alive! (At least, he hoped that she was still alive…) By all accounts, Etoile should have been disqualified!

There was a quiet knock at his door. "Yes, who is it?" Ferdinand called out.

"Ferdinand, may I enter?" Oh, it was his mother again.

"Of course, Mom." Prince Ferdinand stood up as Queen Siegrind lithely entered his room, sitting down in the same chair as previously with the same near-silent rustle of her dress. He sat back down.

"How is Etoile's opponent doing?" Ferdinand asked. "Is she stable?"

Queen Siegrind nodded to reassure him. "She is. Etoile's group's weapons did not have real bullets within them. While the blanks can still be lethal, from the distance the guns were being used, Salyra is fine, thankfully. She's quite bruised and has a few deep gashes, but other than that, she's fine. In fact, the Weapons committee only allowed her to compete with her weapons choice if she didn't use the real projectiles and fired only from a specific distance away from her opponent, of which Etoile nearly neglected to follow." Her mother sighed heavily. "Personally, I would not have allowed it if I had known about it beforehand. Her weapons request excited someone in the Research Department, and they passed them to her. I don't know who did it, but if I get my hands on them—!"

His mother cut off her anger with a huff, instead opening her ornate fan and proceeding to fan her face vigorously as a way to vent her frustration.

Ferdinand exhaled in relief. "I'm glad that her opponent is all right, then."

"For their sake of the Committee's _heads_, we're glad that she is fine. Urgh, the damage those overexcited researchers almost caused—!" Queen Siegrind took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly. She resumed fanning herself with greater vigor. "But that is neither here nor there. It cannot be changed now, and while important, that is not the main purpose of my coming here," his mother continued. "I bring news that, apparently, as soon as the contestants heard about the results between Etoile and Miss Salyra, they removed themselves from the contest."

Prince Ferdinand started in his chair. "Wait, there's _no one_ else left in the competition?" _Please no, please no, please no—please not just Etoile Rosenqueen! I don't want her within fifty feet of me, much less having her stand next to me as the contest winner by default!_

The queen grinned at his reaction. "Actually, everyone pulled out except for one—your spunky friend that you met in the Wonder Woods, Cornet Espoir. She defeated her opponent in the first round, and now she's the only other remaining contestant. She's scheduled to face Etoile in an hour."

Ferdinand had begun exhaling in relief when it stuck in his throat. "Etoile is still being allowed to compete? _With machine guns and rocket launchers?!_"

"Unfortunately, yes," his mother bit out through gritted teeth. "The rules stipulate that the contestant's chosen weapon cannot be changed midway through the competition. She has to finish the competition with the weapon that she is currently using."

"And the rules can't be changed?" he protested. _You're the ruling power, aren't you?!_

Queen Siegrind sighed. "I wish I could do so that easily. The rules only stipulate that the contestant is disqualified if the weapon is proved 'unquestionably or undeniably dangerous'. It does not stipulate 'potentially dangerous' as a reason. Consequently, because Etoile's opponent was not fatally injured, Etoile is allowed to continue using her choice of weapon against Cornet, provided that Cornet is not fatally injured, or comes close to becoming so. My hands are tied. However," her voice took on a steely tone, "if there is any chance of Cornet _coming close_ to being seriously injured, I will _not_ hesitate to disqualify Etoile Rosenqueen, and I'll have her head afterward. She took quite a gamble in choosing to bring machine guns—ones she wrangled from our own Research Department, no less!—so I will _not_ take a breach in rules lightly. I love her dearly, but her actions are trying my patience."

Ferdinand watched his mother in awe. His mother was in a rare form to lose any ounce of her poise. A rant was nigh unheard of. Her frustration did reassure him that she, at least, was remembering the rules of the contest as they had been written. Something prickled at the back of his mind, though. "I am slightly afraid to ask this question, but—considering that puppets were used as weapons in the war, does Cornet risk disqualification if she chooses to wield them against Etoile?"

His mother considered her son's words for a moment. "Well, Etoile used a potentially dangerous weapon non-lethally. Any weapon can be used lethally or non-lethally—it just depends upon the wielder's choice. As long as Etoile and her company are not fatally injured, Cornet's puppets will fall within the guidelines. Besides, the registration committee accepted that within Cornet's application, just like they accepted Etoile's... request. If Cornet has to face machine guns, I'll be quiet for the sake of her safety, and simply be reassured that she has a weapon that can protect her better than most." His mother chuckled mirthlessly. "Imagine if they both injure each other to the point of double-disqualification? That would be a sight to see, and would serve as an eye-opener to that incorrigible registration committee. Honestly! This is a display of leadership potential, and while it was a good suggestion to prove tactical abilities in combat in case of the event that the queen must head the troops in the battle, this is a _contest—_not actual war! They're not fighting to the death!"

Queen Siegrind huffed again, and then she took a deep breath and fanned herself. Once she had regained her composure, she said, "Actually, there was something else that I came to ask you about, Ferdinand." She looked up at him pensively.

"What is it, Mom?" His eyebrows knitted together in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I know that Golonzo likes to stretch the truth sometimes, but he is just as incorrigible as the registration committee if he sets his eyes on something." His mother paused, and then she continued, "I did not question the guard's assessments of his 'assassination attempt,' as I am as much aware as they—and you—are, that some (ok, most, if not almost all) of his 'assassins' are simply common girls set at winning your heart through gifts. As this most-recent instance concerning the 'Bobo assassin' appears to have been."

A light blush spread across Ferdinand's cheeks as he stared intently at his impeccably-clean white-tiled floor.

"Consequently, I have done nothing more beyond listen politely to the minister's complaints, offer reassurances for 'justice' to placate him, and instruct the guards to keep an eye out for his described 'assassin,'" his mother continued, watching Ferdinand intently. "However, he seems determined this time that there was an assassin after his life, and if today is any indication, he seems set on one of the participants. Do you have any comments or ideas concerning this matter, Ferdinand?"

Ferdinand ran a tense hand through his already-tousled hair and sighed. "Yes. I am fairly certain that he is after Cornet Espoir. However, I am equally certain that she is in no shape or form an assassin." _That bobo was more likely meant for _me_ than him._

Queen Siegrind nodded. "Those were also my thoughts, but I wished to cross-check them with you. However, what is your supporting evidence?"

"My supporting evidence is that the 'Bobo assassin,' as was coined, appeared directly after I saved her in the woods. Furthermore, Golonzo's description of the 'assassin's puppet minion' matches Kururu, Cornet's fairy puppet."

"I see, thank you," his mother responded with a nod. "As I have not seen her puppet myself, I couldn't make this observation. I could only guess from your prior mentioning of Kururu, but I could not formulate a firm hypothesis." His mother sighed as she put away her fan. "Must I warn you to be careful? Minister Golonzo will stop at nothing until he has proven his 'assassin' was Cornet, even if it really wasn't her. His narrow-mindedness blinds him to the possibility of anything else that the event might have been. I will do what I can with the power I have to keep him from overstepping his bounds, but he is still wily and has much political clout. I cannot make any rash moves against him." His mother paused, and then emphasized, "Please, Ferdinand, watch your step. I try not to be an overbearing monarch, but I have had less influence over him at late. His power, inflated through his own fantasies, might have gone to his head."

_'Might'? Try 'did'. _However, Ferdinand left the retort unspoken, instead nodding in relief and gratitude that his mother was on his side. The last part about the minister not obeying his mother was worrisome, but given Golonzo's probable sights on his inheritance, he honestly should have expected it. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be careful." He gave Queen Siegrind a reassuring smile. _I'll be careful both for my own sake and for Cornet's,_ he added silently.

"Good." His mother smiled at him as she stood up. "Now that that has been discussed, I'll take my leave of you so that you can have some quiet time. The Goddess knows that you will not be having much more of it as your birthday—and the dance—gets closer." She laughed lightly as she swept out of the room, the door closing behind her with the faintest whisper.

Ferdinand took a deep breath, forcing himself not to think about the upcoming dance, as there were other things to think about. He narrowed his eyes toward the ground before they settled on the sword still attached to his belt as his side.

While he had been wearing it as formal decoration—more like a required formal announcement that he was the Crown Prince, since it was his father's—during the contest, that did by no means indicate that there was a fake blade sheathed within it, nor that it was incapable of use. He had no idea of what Minister Golonzo might be concocting. There were rumors circulating that the Minister had been training assassins of his own (even before this recent "Bobo Assassin" event). What if the Golonzo attempted sending some after Ferdinand, during or after the contest? He wouldn't put it past him. If Ferdinand was planning to watch his back carefully, there might not be harm in using this contest as an excuse to keep his person armed. It would definitely leave him prepared if he needed to defend himself—or Cornet—at any point—

"_What the heck is that thing?!"_

"_I have no idea, but it's flying this way! Don't let it reach the Prince's chamber!"_

Prince Ferdinand leapt from his chair, startled. What was going on? Without time to think, he pulled his father's sword from his scabbard at his side in one fluid motion. He gripped the handle tightly—

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"_

_Bang!_

His door burst open as a tiny purple blob blurred past him before he could react, wailing as it zipped in jagged circles around his room.

Wait, _purple?_ And was it _crying?_ "Kururu?" he voiced guardedly as Hans and Franz skidded into his room.

"_Kururu?"_ Hans echoed, his gaze following Ferdinand's line of sight.

"That thing has a _name? _**[1]**" Franz shot out incredulously.

The fairy in question stopped flying haphazardly to hover in midair in front of the prince. However, as a side effect, her wailing increased two-fold.

"Ow, man! Somebody make the screeching stop!" Franz groaned. To the credit of his guards, however, they tensed and held their weapons more securely when Kururu stopped in front of Ferdinand.

Ferdinand sighed, lowering his sword but not sheathing it yet. To assume anything in his current situation was foolhardy. This little creature was definitely Cornet's puppet companion (and would greatly support that the Cornet Espoir that was competing was the same Cornet that he met in the Wonder Woods), but the pressing question was: what was she doing _here_, of all places, and away from her puppeteer? "Don't worry, Hans and Franz. I don't believe that this puppet is very dangerous (excluding the power of her vocal cords). She belongs to one of the contestants." He inched as close as his eardrums would allow. "Your name is Kururu, is it not?" he asked her. "What are you doing here?"

The little puppet stopped wailing. However, she continued sobbing quietly. Apparently tired of hovering, she flew slowly over and plopped down on the edge Ferdinand's bed.

Ferdinand sighed quietly as he ran a hand through his hair. It looked like the puppet wasn't going anywhere for a while. Besides, unlike Minister Golonzo, he didn't feel any threat coming from her. Throwing caution to the winds, he sheathed his sword.

"My Prince!" Hans objected.

"Don't worry," Ferdinand reassured. "I don't feel endangered by her." He walked over and moved his chair toward the side of the bed so that he could sit and face the fairy puppet. "Now, are you all right? What are you doing in my room, Kururu?"

* * *

**A/N:** So, this is a surprising twist! It popped up unexpectedly, when I began wondering where Kururu ran off to after she and Cornet get into their fight before the second round began. Hope you all like the chapter! Please share your thoughts!

**[1]** I just couldn't resist using Hermione's line from the first Harry Potter movie. It felt very Franz-ish. Property of it goes to the respective owners and the Harry Potter characters to J.K. Rowling.

See you next time!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: _Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure_ belongs to Atlus and its respective owners. I own this humble fanfiction (unfortunately not the Prince, but I own his thoughts. :P)

**A/N:** I felt bad that I was gone for so long, so I decided to post up Chapter 8 along with 7. I hope you enjoy the extra chapter!

* * *

**Rhapsody: The Princely Chronicles**

_Chapter Eight_

* * *

"What's wrong, Kururu?" Prince Ferdinand asked, leaning forward a little bit. "Are you hurt?" _Actually, wouldn't puppets break as opposed to being injured?_

Kururu looked up at him with large, watery eyes. She sniffled, and then buried her face in her little hands again, her wings flapping agitatedly behind her. _"Waaaaaahhhhh….."_

As Hans and Franz watched the evident distress of the puppet before them, they concluded that there was no immediate danger to the Prince's life. This appeared to truly be a crying puppet, as strange as it was. Following the Prince's lead, they lowered their swords and moved to stand on opposite sides of the chair that Ferdinand was sitting in. Hans sighed as they moved, before reaching over and pulling a handkerchief from Franz's shirt pocket and offering it to the distressed fairy puppet. She looked up at him and, giving him a small, shaky smile, accepted it.

"I can't believe you just gave my handkerchief away, Hans," jibed Franz humorously. "I mean, at least let _me_ have offered it to her. Or you could have given your own."

"Unfortunately, mine was dirty. I couldn't let a distressed little lady continue in such a fashion, now could I, Franz?" responded Hans smoothly. "Besides, yours was more accessible. My other clean handkerchiefs are in the barracks."

"Ok, fair point," sighed Franz, "but the fact is still that you gave away _mine,_" he paused dramatically, adding for good measure, "without asking."

"Since when have you ever asked _my_ permission before using my things? Consider the favor returned."

"So _you're_ the one who's been taking my stuff?!" Franz exclaimed, pretending to be appalled. "I should report you to the Prince for this!"

"And when you do, I'll make sure to report that you started it by taking my things first," retorted Hans with a laugh.

"Hey—!"

But whatever Franz was about to retort back, Hans and Ferdinand would never know, because soft laughter interrupted him. It was quiet, and muffled through the sobs, but it was there.

"See? She _can_ smile," continued Franz, as though he had planned the routine on his own.

"What do you mean, 'she can smile'? Or course she can smile, Franz! All girls can smile, and they're even prettier when they do." Hans smiled as he leaned in closer to the puppet, whose face was no longer hidden behind Franz's handkerchief. "Now, then. Is your name Kururu, little one?"

Kururu nodded. "You two are funny, mister," she responded shakily, a quiet smile on her face through the tear streaks. "You should put on a comedy routine."

Ferdinand laughed. "I know. They're great, aren't they? And they're even better guards. I'd miss them if they left; they brighten up this dreary castle."

Hans smiled and Franz beamed beside Ferdinand from the prince's praise.

Deciding to resume the questioning (although he was awfully tempted to pose while the prince complimented him), Franz asked, "What are you doing in this part of the castle, Kururu? All guests are prohibited from the royal chambers and hallways thereof. Who and where is your puppeteer?"

"I'm sorry…" she murmured. Kururu became downcast, and she appeared about to burst into tears again. "My p-puppeteer is C-Cornet Espoir. She's my b-best f-friend, b-but, w-we—" She burst into tears again, burying her face (and about a third of her body, excluding her wings) into Franz's handkerchief.

"Good job, Franz," jibed Hans. "Look, you made her cry again."

"It wasn't my fault!" retorted Franz, indignant, an embarrassed blush gracing the edges of his cheeks. "I—"

"Hans, Franz," murmured Ferdinand, cutting off what either promised to be bickering or another amusing verbal jaunt, but the prince didn't want to risk the former. Turning back to the puppet, he asked kindly, "How did you come to be here, Kururu? What happened?"

Kururu sniffled, and then she mumbled, "I got into a fight with Cornet. I told her that—that she must have been l-liked by the crowd, because everyone was laughing during the first round, but she said that they didn't, that they had really laughed at her because they h-hated her, and that i-it was m-my fault because I-I convinced her to wear the costume, because there weren't any more dresses in town because Etoile had b-bought t-them all and had the store b-backlogged for another t-three y-years, a-and—"

"Whoa, kid, wait," interrupted Franz. "Is your puppeteer the girl who went on stage in the demonic dog costume?"

Kururu nodded, sniffling. "I-It was actually a bear," she mumbled. "He said his name was L-kun."

'_He' said his name was L-kun? Was that suit a _puppet_?_ Ferdinand wondered to himself.

"So that was _your_ puppeteer?" Franz whistled appreciatively. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it, kid. I can assure you that, at the minimum, her guts were enjoyed by the three guys here."

The puppet looked up, her eyes bright. "Really?" she whispered.

"Yeah!" he responded with a grin. "You get tired of dresses constantly, you know? 'Cuz you can't tell what types of girls are really on stage when you're distracted by rags or diamonds. Your 'L-kun' really spiced up the competition."

Ferdinand chuckled. He wasn't sure if it had 'spiced up' the competition, given the reactions of the other judges, but it definitely added a different flavor to it.

Hans took on a thoughtful look. "Kururu, what did you say about Etoile, again? Something about buying all the dresses in town?" He turned to Ferdinand. "Is that even possible?"

Ferdinand shrugged. "I've never heard of it before, but I guess it's possible." He turned back to Kururu.

The fairy puppet nodded. "It wasn't fair! She completely bought out the tailor shop in Mothergreen and even the smaller dress shops. There isn't a dress shop in Orange, so Cornet couldn't find a dress anywhere else. We had to go check out what used to be a theater building in the Wonder Woods to see if they had anything left over, but all we found was L-kun…" Kururu sniffled again. "I wish we could have found a dress… She would have looked so gorgeous…"

Ferdinand didn't deny that Cornet probably would've looked more feminine had she actually followed the letter of the rules of the first round, but he still had to admit that she was gutsier than he had given her credit for. He knew that many girls had withdrawn from the contest in previous years for lack of evening wear, but Cornet scrounged and used whatever she could find, determined to enter _anyway_. He had to give her points for her determination, at the least.

But there was something else bothering him…

Finally, it hit him.

_Of course, now I remember!_ he thought to himself. _The theater troupe! _ He _had_ seen L-kun before. Before the troupe retired, they had performed once in Mothergreen, when he was very small. He must have been around five or six years old, but he still remembered the troupe's spectacular performance, as well as the large costume that the leader had worn during the second act, the costume that Cornet wore during the first round of the contest. Why hadn't he remembered before?

"However, that still doesn't explain how you got here," Hans gently prompted Kururu, breaking into Prince Ferdinand's thoughts and returning him to the present.

Kururu looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I was so out of it that I wasn't paying attention where I was going. When I looked up, I found myself staring at the prince's face." She looked up at Ferdinand. "I'm sorry for barging into your room, Your Highness…"

Ferdinand gave her a gentle smile. "It's all right, Kururu. Next time, though, I would prefer you to knock," he laughed lightly. "However, I am glad that you are feeling better."

Kururu nodded. "I've just never fought with Cornet before… I…" she teared up again, but shook her head, forcing it back. "I…" she sighed. "I'm just worried about what the judges thought. And…" her voice fell to a quiet whisper, "and what if Cornet hates me?"

Franz smiled mischievously, and before Ferdinand could stop him, he proclaimed, "Hey, don't worry about it, munchkin! After all, one of those judges is right here, and _he_ didn't have a problem with it. And since _he_ didn't have a problem, I'm _sure_ your puppeteer passed with flying colors. Am I right, Prince?"

Prince Ferdinand suddenly decided the floor to be the most interesting object in the room. His face was hot, and he was sure that he was blushing. He made a silent promise to get Franz back for it later. Or maybe he'd task Hans with it; Hans would gladly take up the Prince's revenge.

"I wouldn't worry about either," Hans continued, coming to the Prince's aid. "And if you're really as close to your puppeteer as you say, she probably said that under the stress she was in and is feeling bad about it now. I'm sure, if you find her, you'll be able to make amends."

Kururu nodded to them gratefully. She rose with a gentle beat of her wings and handed Franz back his handkerchief. "Thank you for your handkerchief," she said, before joking, "or should I hand this to your friend?"

Franz grabbed his handkerchief in a flash. "Nope, it's mine!"

Kururu chuckled. Turning to Prince Ferdinand (whose blush had cleared, so he looked back up), she said, "Thank you again for allowing me to crash your room. I really appreciate you three listening to me." She smiled. "Take care, and I'm sure I'll see you later!"

She flew away towards the door. However, before she exited, she turned back, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she said, "I hope that you get your chance to talk to Cornet this time, Prince. I haven't had a moment's rest with her. All I've heard for the past two weeks was how brave and strong and kind her prince who rescued her was, and how much she dreamt of seeing you again." She winked at Ferdinand as he turned scarlet. "I'm in your corner and rooting for you, Prince! Good luck getting the girl this time!" Then she zipped out the open door.

As Ferdinand's face burned, Hans patted his shoulder while Franz cat-called and slapped his back. "Oh, _yeah_, boy!" Franz exclaimed excitedly. "The prince knows who he wants and how to win her!" He sighed dramatically. "My little boy is all grown-up and," he pretended to sniff, "saving damsels in distress. **[1]** I tell you, kid, it's the best way to win your future bride—_ow_! Hans, you're not my mother, let go!"

Hans had grabbed Franz by the ear and had proceeded to pull him out of Ferdinand's room. "Come along now, son," he chided jokingly. "I believe you have teased His Highness enough for an afternoon."

"But—_ow_!—I'm not _done_ yet—_ow_! Ok, ok, I'm coming, _coming_—!"

Hans closed the door, silencing on Franz's exclamations in the middle of his rant.

Ferdinand leaned back in his chair as he covered his face with his hands. He had _never_ been so embarrassed in his life. He sent a silent thanks to Hans for dragging Franz out of the room. He cared for his guards deeply, but some days—

He sighed. _Oh well_, Ferdinand thought, as he placed his chair against his desk and then flopped down gracelessly upon his bed. At least he should have a moment's peace now, right? Ferdinand desperately hoped so. His sanity depended on it.

Unfortunately, fate was being unkind that day. He only ten minutes of quiet before he heard—

_Gooooooong! Gooooooong!_

Ferdinand moaned into his pillow. That meant that the last match of the second round was about to start. While he wanted to watch Cornet battle (and hopefully cream) Etoile, he desperately wanted time alone in his room.

There was a knock on his door. It looked like that time wouldn't come until after the Contest was over. At least he would have a week until his birthday—and the dance—then, right?

As he forced himself to rise and answer the summons, he dearly hoped that he'd have some peace after the Contest was over.

He needed a holiday. A very long holiday. **[2]**

* * *

**A/N: **And there's Chapter 8! Aw, poor Ferdinand. What's a prince to do for some peace and quiet?

I know that this is a little bit shorter, but I figured that it would be better to include the final match of the second round in the next chapter. I haven't decided how long that's going to be, and I didn't want to make this chapter too long. So, it's been bumped over.

**[1]** While slightly altered, Mushu's words from _Mulan _(love that movie!) felt Franz-ish, so I threw them in. Copyright of his words goes to Disney and any other respective owners.

**[2] **I think this one's easy, but I don't think that it's verbatim. Invisible cookies to the reader who gets it! I'll reveal the answer in the next chapter.

Wow, already on Chapter 8. This is my longest multi-chaptered fic so far. (I'm not counting my poetry collection, as that's poetry.) And considering that we're only before the final match of the second round, this might last more chapters than I'd thought! Hope you'll stick around till then!

Thanks for reading! Please review share your thoughts! I'm really sorry if I wasn't able to respond to your review, but I greatly appreciate reading them. Your thoughts tell me how I'm doing and encourage me to continue and do my best.


End file.
